Recollection
by It's Just That
Summary: Shounen-ai;Yaoi. A collection of Sasori and Deidara oneshots. There's some angst, comedy, romance...but most of all, just SasoDei. Plot bunnies, challenges, and requests are welcome! :D Warning: my Penname has been changed!
1. Rain

**DISCLAIM IT: **I don't own. Damnit.

Pairing: SasoriDeidara

**Warnings:** Angst. MM

**A/N:** This'll be a collection of oneshots, starring our favorite Akatsuki members:_ Deidara _and_ Sasori_!

So I figured out that I'm not exactly meant to be writing long-term fics, but that's okay. I'll just write oneshots until…yeah, I get my ADD out of the way.

* * *

Rain

* * *

Sasori hated the rain.

For as long as he could remember, he loathed the life-giving droplets that fell from the skies. As a child, he knew that water wasn't to be treated lightly. That water wasn't just your friend, but also your lover.

Your everything.

He, even then, refused to play out in the rain like other children. He flat out refused to tell his Chiyo-baa why, because shouldn't she already know herself? Shouldn't she know that the rain was precious, that one should cherish it while it lasted; not waste it on anything?

Did she not realize that the rain was fleeting in its beauty?

Sasori hated it.

There were nights in the Akatsuki Base, when the rain was a constant outside the stone halls. It made Sasori tired and nostalgic.

He didn't want to see it or hear it. Not even when he walked or traveled for missions—he did his best to avoid it all. Even when his best partner left, and the new recruit, Deidara was initiated; he hated it. He and Orochimaru had never particularly gotten along, but that was fine, they did their missions well and never argued. He was fine with that.

But that night Orochimaru left, it had rained. The night Sasori left Suna, rained. The night that Deidara had been initiated, rained.

Sasori hated it.

The way it smelled, sounded, looked, felt—he all hated it.

And oh, how he loathed it even more, as those beautiful, fat droplets leaked from silver-blue eyes. How they would trail down smooth and unblemished cheeks, making their way to a beautifully pale collar bone--

He hated it.

When warm arms would embrace him in the dead of the night, and the words, "_Love you danna_," whispered into his ears--

He hated it.

Sasori hated how Deidara could make him feel so alive, how when the blond would stroke his hair, he'd lean back into that soft touch. He hated it when Deidara would run curious fingertips around his body, appraising him as if he were a jewel. He hated it, he _hated_ it!

But the night Deidara stole his way into Sasori's bed, pinned him down onto the firm mattress and kissed him silly--

Well that was okay. Sasori didn't mind.

That rainy night, in Deidara's arms, he found that he didn't exactly hate the rain that much. That it could be noisy and loud if it wanted to. It could trail down Deidara's cheeks, as he whispered, "_Love you danna_." That it could do anything it absolutely wanted to—it could even trail down _his_ cheeks, as he snuggled back into his partner's body.

It was okay, so long as he was in Deidara's arms.

His precious person.

His everything.

* * *

**A/N: Le gasp! ****THE ANGST ! -Sob-**


	2. Tools of the Trade

**DISCLAIM IT: **Don't own. Screw off.

**A/N:**This is a funny one, promise. It's full of insults. xD

**Warnings:**Sad attempt at humor, language, MM.

* * *

Tools of the Trade

* * *

"Why don't you go blow your brains out, you've got nothing to lose," Sasori glared, pushing his glasses back onto his nose. He was once again fixing Hiruko (Deidara had somehow found a way to destroy his favored puppet), while wishing that his irritating partner would go away.

And preferably, _stay away_.

Deidara pouted. "But _danna_!" he whined. "I'm bored, un!"

A finely made eyebrow rose. "Does it look like I care?"

Deidara nodded, situating himself near his much older and taciturn partner.

"Well I'm sorry for it to seem that way, but I don't want to give you the wrong impression," he spat, turning back to Hiruko and hammering a screw in. "I'm busy now, Deidara; I don't have the time to ignore you."

"But danna!" the blond whined again. "I know you have something for me to do! I'm bored and I'll do _anything_!"

Sasori stopped mid-hammer, then smirked as a thought crossed his mind.

"_Anything_, huh?" he stated silkily, somehow managing to discard his Akatsuki uniform and seating his puppet body onto his partner's. Deidara stiffened, and silver-blue eyes widened.

"D-danna," Deidara whispered. "W-what are you doing, un?"

Sasori imagined ducktaping his partner's mouth, but resisted the urge to do so.

"Nothing, Dei-_dara_," he purred, choosing at that moment, to drop a box of _tools_ next to them. "You said you'd do _anything_, right?" He watched as Deidara shivered at his close proximity and voice. These were one of the times that Sasori loved his Suna accent—it was so much easier to manipulate people.

Deidara gulped.

"B-but, danna, I didn't mean _that_everything!" the blond exclaimed, a fine blush on his cheeks.

"…Just what the hell are you talking about?" Sasori asked, handing his clueless partner a screwdriver. "I just meant that you should check my body for any loose screws and joints."

Deidara's shoulders slumped, and his blush magnified tenfold.

"I--I…"

Sasori shifted on Deidara's lap and blinked. "Just what _were_you thinking?"

"N-nothing, danna! Here, I'll screw that right there, un?" Deidara suddenly blathered, holding a hammer up and pounding it onto Sasori's left leg.

Sasori winced. "Ouch, you idiot! Not that! That's my real leg!"

"Oops, sorry danna, un!"

"Wait--no! Not there either! Ouch!" Sasori yelled, holding his thumb up and inspecting the red mark.

Five minutes into this and Deidara threw the hammer across the wall, sniffling. "Sasori-no-Danna!" he wailed, burying his face onto Sasori's shoulder. "I can't do it!"

"And why not?" Sasori said testily. _He would not push his partner away, he would not push his partner away, he _would not_ push his partner_--

Deidara suddenly wrapped his arms around Sasori's waist.

Ahh, screw it, he would.

He pushed Deidara away, snorting as the boy fell off his bed and landed on the ground. "You weren't doing such a bad job of trying to fix me. I've had worse," he told the blond.

Deidara's head peeked from down under.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes, really," Sasori said, dressing back into his clothes. He only had his…_boxers _on while sitting on Deidara's lap after all. "You were way better off than Hidan, who tried to break me more than fix me. For some odd reason, Hidan wanted me to take _everything_off."

"_I couldn't imagine why, danna_," Deidara muttered.

Sasori tapped his chin, sitting on the floor next to Deidara, who blinked, then surreptitiously edged his way closer to him.

"Then there was Zetsu, who thought that a puppet limb was as good as a human limb. Now he was horrible."

Deidara had no comment to that.

"And oh!" Sasori said, mocha eyes lighting up. "There was Orochimaru of course. He was slightly better than Hidan, but he wanted me to sit in his lap and move around. I just can't understand why…" he trailed off, as Deidara turned stony.

"…Sasori-no-Danna, you must be kidding me, right?" Deidara said, a look of utter disbelief crossing his face. "You must know why Hidan and Orochimaru wanted you to do those things, un!"

"No, not really," Sasori shrugged. "I just thought it was their way of doing things."

"Oh danna," Deidara moaned, slapping a frustrated palm onto his forehead. "Don't tell me that Leader-sama also tried to fix you too, un!"

"Oh, that he did," Sasori nodded, plastering a poker face on. "In fact, he was better at screwing than anything."

Deidara's eyes goggled.

"Y-you! You--!" he sputtered.

"Yes, me—_me_," Sasori mocked. "What, you seriously think I wasn't aware that Leader-sama didn't want to try and _fix _me? He was rough, but just the way I like it."

That was then, that Deidara decided to faint.

Sasori stared down at the dead weight in his lap.

"--What?" The redhead blinked cluelessly. After a moment, he shrugged. "Hm, probably didn't get enough sleep last night. He was tossing and turning after all…"

As he gently laid his partner back onto his bed, Sasori had to wonder why his partner fainted.

All he said was that Leader-sama was good at fixing his loose screws.

* * *

**A/N:**Harhar. The innuendos are so sad. So sad. ;-;


	3. Lethal Weapon

**DISCLAIM IT: **Does it look like I own Naruto? What happened to the XXX-Scenes with Deidara and Sasori? Or the one with Naruto and Neji and Sasuke in the same room with whips and chains and--enough about that. Just know that I don't own.

**A/N: **Ooh, major brain fart. Gotta dig it, you know?

**Warnings: **OOC-ness, general perviness, Deidara and Sasori's femmy antics, and MM. Oh, and let's not forget about Konan—oh wait, let's forget about her. I hate her guts because I don't know who the bloody fuck she is.

**Extra Warnings:**Randomness, writing equals utter crap. Sorry, folks, but I wanted to get this right out of my system.

* * *

Lethal Weapon

* * *

"I'M PREGNANT, un!"

That was the first thing that had come into Deidara's mind, when he sat at the dinner table, with all the Akatsuki members idly chewing away at their Nikujaga.

There was silence at first, and then--

"WHAT THE _FUCK_, BLONDIE?!" shouted Hidan, already throwing his specially sharpened chopsticks at Deidara, who ducked just in time to avoid being speared by said eating utensils.

Even Kakuzu looked shocked, his eerie green eyes sliding from him, to an equally shocked Sasori, then back again. It caused Deidara to blush embarrassedly, eyes downcast.

He heard Tobi and Zetsu giggling in the background, while Kisame was chortling next to a terribly silent Itachi.

At this point, no one cared for Konan, and Leader-sama just seemed painfully constipated.

"…Just what is the meaning of this, Deidara?" Leader-sama spoke, his voice instilling fear and death into each member's mind.

Deidara gulped and vaguely wondered if his question was worth it.

"Un—Leader-sama, I just wanted to ask a question," he said timidly, finally lifting his eyes to stare at a point above Zetsu's shoulder. _Just keep it simple, Dei. Simple and non-sexual. No one can tell you that it isn't wrong to ask--so breathe in, then out. You are not going to burn in the deepest lava pits for this. You're just going to…well, singe yourself a bit, then fall down._

"What. Is. It?" Pein growled out, snapping his wooden chopsticks in half.

Deidara somehow mustered a dazzling grin in spite of himself. How he pulled it off--when his knees were literally shaking under the table--was beyond him.

"Just wanted to know what Sasori-no-Danna was made out of, un."

"..."

It went on like this for twenty minutes, and that was possibly the longest--if not quietest--silence in the entire record of silences at the Base. It even beat Tobi's silence, when he asked if it was possible to cry underwater. He earned a sucker punch from Zetsu for that.

"...So," Itachi said, uncharacteristically breaking said silence, "you aren't pregnant?"

Deidara blinked and a look of utter confusion crossed his face. "I didn't know men could get pregnant, un!"

"Then why did you say it?" Kakuzu spat, and was ready to stab someone or something, possibly his idiot partner next to him. Kakuzu was feeling too generous to actually stab Deidara. He was prettier than Hidan anyway, and it'd be a shame to uglify something so pretty. At least, in his twisted mind it was.

"That's easy to answer, un!" Deidara beamed cutely, causing everyone to swoon in their seats. "I needed to get everyone's attention, un, and it was the only thing I could think of doing! That and," the blond wrinkled his nose, "if I had said anything else, you guys would've ignored me or asked Itachi to genjutsu me."

"Damn right we would've," Kisame grumbled, taking a swig out of his iced tea. "In fact, I think Itachi should do that right now, but I'm pretty curious myself."

The others murmured in agreement, while Leader-sama looked positively baffled. He was probably thinking of a way to answer Deidara's question, without the need to sound like a total pervert.

And as everyone was nodding and assenting to Deidara's brilliant question, Sasori sat in his seat, seething in anger. He somehow knew that he'd end up answering his partner's query, but he wouldn't give in without a fight!

He would never give in!

Besides, he still had to get the blond back for this one, and he already had an idea as to what he'd do. Deidara would never know what hit him, Sasori thought, cackling madly in his mind.

Eventually though, all eyes turned expectantly to the puppeteer.

"No," said Sasori, icy tone belying the nervous tension in his gut.

Okay, so he lied a smidgen about being a genuine puppet--it saved him a lot of spit when it came to answering inane questions about his body. But really, could anyone blame him? He wanted to keep the important bits to himself, like the _Lethal Weapon _in his pants. He _really _didn't want anyone to know about that bit.

There was more silence, until--

"…What did you say, Sasori?" Rinnegan eyes turned to him, and Sasori froze in place, wishing that it was Deidara that was in front of him, doing naughty things with his tongue and--

Wait, wait, he so did not just go there!

_RED ALERT! RED ALERT! DON'T GO THERE! _His mind screeched, and he managed to plaster a blank look on his face while the inside of his brain exploded.

"No," he repeated firmly.

Nine pairs of eyes pinned Sasori in place, and he tried hard not to squirm in his seat.

"What?!" he barked out. "Can't I keep something like that a secret?"

"No," they all chorused, and once again waited for an answer.

"--Do I really have to?" he pleaded desperately, giving Pein a very, _very_ heart-melting stare. It was pretty hard to deny Sasori when he switched on the _charm_. Even his clients were subjected to that puppy-dog look—it made people want to 'squee' in utter happiness.

Or in Leader-sama's case—utter _anger_.

"JUST DO IT!" Pein roared, a vein popping out on his forehead.

A beautiful bottom lip trembled, and all hell broke loose.

* * *

Deidara groaned and placed an icepack onto his bruised eye. The one _without _the spiffy scope. After Sasori's lips had trembled, Hidan had actually blown a fuse and aimed a butter knife at the puppeteer, which was caught by a livid Deidara.

The blond didn't really appreciate Hidan's attempts at his Danna's life, so he retaliated by jumping at the Jashinist and throttling him with his bare hands. Hidan apparently had similar thoughts.

Thus began a survival of the fittest.

It was fairly obvious that Sasori would escape unscathed, seeing that he had slowly edged his way out of the kitchen. Pein and Konan were the next to vanish, and Tobi was _surprisingly _dragging a reluctant Zetsu out. They all knew he wanted to eat everyone's fill of Nikujaga, and that fact didn't bode well with Tobi. He _really _didn't want to see a fat Zetsu around.

Hence, the dragging.

Kisame had also pulled Itachi away from the scene--it wasn't because he was disgusted at the show of idiocy, but more because he found that Itachi was enjoying himself.

And Itachi plus enjoyment equaled--?

That's right, utter chaos.

So the shark-like man had to literally drag the stubborn Uchiha to their rooms, fully intent on trying out his new pair of handcuffs.

No one really paid attention to what happened to the kitchen afterwards.

At any rate, Kakuzu was the only one that managed to knock Hidan out with a solid blow to the nuts, all the while cursing his partner's temper.

He got a point to his multitasking skills.

"Fucking son of a fucking bitch," the stitched man had muttered, causing Deidara to erupt into giggling fits, realizing that Kakuzu sounded a little too much like Hidan.

But this was all soon forgotten, because it seemed as if Kakuzu took back his earlier remark of _not _marring Deidara's pretty face.

The son of a bitch had actually _punched_ him!

And this, my friends, is where we left off:

"Ouch, ouch, _ouch_!" the blond yelped, as his Danna placed some antibacterial cream onto his cuts.

"Stop being such a baby," Sasori growled, and unintentionally pressed harder on the zigzag laceration on Deidara's arm.

"Ouch, danna!" he whined. "That really hurts!"

"Oh quit your whining, you idiot," Sasori spat. "It doesn't hurt that much."

"But still!" Deidara turned bright blue eyes to Sasori, who sighed.

"Whatever, brat. I'm just glad that you're all right," he muttered, a note of unease in his voice. "I wouldn't know what to do with you, if you had actually gotten hurt."

Deidara instantly perked up, though winced as Sasori continued nursing him.

"So does that mean you worry for me, danna?" he said, a grin dancing on his lips. "Because you _seem _like you're worrying over me and--"

"No." Sasori cut in, and gave the blond a creepy smile. "Don't misinterpret me, Deidara. I still plan to get you back for this and I need you alive for my revenge."

Deidara threw his hands up in frustration. "Fine then, un! But could you at _least_ tell me what you're made out of?!"

"Hmm."

Sasori pretended to think about it, then shook his head.

"Sorry, but I can't do that. It's top secret."

Like the Lethal Weapon in his pants. One could never forget about that.

* * *

**A/N: LOL! **I couldn't help it. I wanted to put something like this up for a long time. xD This is sorta like verbal vomit for me, because…well, I needa vent. So, peace kittens. You don't need to like the chapter, because it's a favorite of mine. :3

Oh, and Nikujaga is like a stew...oh, just Goggle it already. --;;


	4. The Interview

**DISCLAIM IT**: Yeah. Seriously don't own.

**A/N:** I'm still having problems getting over my planet-block. It's killing me. Seriously. The words cannot come easily, and I want to knock my head straight into the fucking wall for it. Damnit.

**Warnings**: General, First-POV, rated-Tplus, and MM.

**Additional Warnings: **This was done for a writing exercise so…yeah, giving you guys a heads-up that it's not going to be what you call your usual story format.:

**Additional A/N**: Give me a challenge please? ;-; I need someone to give me a plot bunny or challenge, so my brain would stop retarding itself.

* * *

The Interview

* * *

Sasori sits on the couch, hands pressed tightly onto his lap. He glares a little at his interviewer, then sighs and regards the Leader with lazy russet eyes.

"Why do I have to do this again?" he asks the intimidating man, and Pein frowns, glaring a little.

"You have to do this because it's required," he says, then calms down, taking in a deep breath. "It is necessary to know the background of your prospective associate, because all members will be living here under one roof. Besides, I only have to ask you a few questions," Pein goes on to say. He's a bit embarrassed, if the tint to his cheeks were anything to go by, and it was fairly obvious that he didn't want to do this.

The ginger-haired man breathes in deeply again, then informs Sasori that he had to answer every question truthfully.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

Pein looks a bit startled, but continues without missing a beat, knowing that Sasori would eventually tell him about his supposed youth.

"Where were you from?"

"Sunagakure."

"How old were you when you left?

"…Fourteen."

"And why did you leave?"

Curious, Pein leans forward to catch Sasori mumble,

"Because no one appreciated my art."

"Ah. I see." He pauses, then says, "And your art is to turn living humans into puppets, correct?"

Sasori stiffens before answering with a curt, "Yes."

"And if I'm right about this, you also turned yourself into a puppet-?" Pein is almost enjoying the way he's making the auburn-haired puppeteer agitated.

With this statement, Sasori bristles like a kitten and glares at the ginger-haired nin. "And your point is?" he manages to hiss, pretty brown eyes narrowed.

Pein offers him a small grin. "Nothing, really, I just wanted to see if I was right." He gives the boy a sidelong stare that makes Sasori clench his fists. "And gauging by your defensive reply--I am. Don't worry, Sasori-san," he offers another indulgent smile, "I won't judge you. We all have our reasons, after all."

Sasori relaxes, but still remains alert. "So does it disgust you?" he murmurs, and brings a small, but obviously puppet limb up for his Leader to inspect.

Running probing fingers around Sasori's mechanical arm, Pein cocks his head to the side. "Do you feel what I'm doing?" he says, and pinches the soft skin between his fingers.

There's a frown on Sasori's face, and he shakes his head. "No."

Pein gently slides a few fingers down Sasori's elbow; enchanted by the way his skin looks and feels. It was as if the boy were real and not a puppet at all.

"How did you manage to make yourself look so alive?" he asks inquisitively.

A brilliant dazzle erupts in Sasori's eyes, and he laughs a little, more at his genius than anything. "Chakra," he explains. "I made a chakra pathway inside myself that is similar to a human's."

"And your skin?" Pein seems genuinely interested in Sasori's puppet-jutsu.

For the first time since their meeting, Sasori smiles. "It is specially designed to feel like a human's own. It took me two years to develop this," Sasori states, and Pein gives the red-haired boy an awed stare.

"You're quite the genius at puppetry, I see." Pein looks proud. "And how long did it take you for the chakra paths?"

"A few months, at best," Sasori answers, and Pein gives the boy another awed stare.

"Very good!" the man proclaims, though suddenly stands up, towering over the small youth. He glances at his wristwatch and sighs. "As much as I want to talk to you more about your art, I'm afraid that's all the time I have today to interview you, Sasori-san."

Pein looks truly disappointed, and Sasori can only blink at his expression.

"That's all?" he asks, and Pein fiddles with a piercing on his chin.

"No, not really," the ginger-haired nin shrugs, "but I have to inspect the other possible candidates for our organization. Good day," Pein tells Sasori curtly, as he readies himself to leave.

* * *

"Wow, Danna!" Deidara exclaimed, gawking at the video footage playing on the screen in the Wreck Room. It was currently playing all the members of the Akatsuki's interviews, and it had started off with Sasori's own, thus causing Deidara's shock.

Sasori, from his place on the floor, gave his partner a surprised stare. "What is it, brat?" he said, turning his head to see Deidara's wide blue eyes.

"You look the same like you did ten years ago!" Deidara breathed, amazed.

Sasori could only give the blond a sardonic glare.

"Well, that's pretty obvious, seeing as though I'm a puppet," Sasori drawled. "I mean, really, if I wasn't one, would you _actually _see me be this young?"

Deidara looked embarrassed.

"All right, un! I get it!" the blond growled, pouting. "I was just weirded out, un."

"By what?" Sasori quirked a brow.

"By how young you were when you came to Akatsuki, un!"

"Hm."

Sasori scratched his head. "I guess that's only a natural reaction, considering that I'm one of the veteran members that survived the Greater Ninja Wars."

"Un!" Deidara nodded vigorously. "But what I don't understand is why Leader-sama's showing all of this--" he gestured to the screen, where Itachi was 'hn-ing' and flickering, "--in here. He could've done it in a more private room, un!"

Sasori shrugged.

"Probably because he's bored," the redhead said, nonchalant. "He usually does things like this."

"What?" Deidara seemed confused. "I don't get it, un."

Sasori stifled his laugh. "It means that Leader-sama just wants some entertainment in the form of--"

Just then, Hidan stomped into the room, purple eyes blazing.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" the Jashinist demanded. "I heard from Kisame that you guys were watching--" he began to shudder, "_TV."_

"And if we are?" Deidara countered, glaring.

"Then you're all going to fucking hell!" the silver-haired man spat. "Don't you guys know that TV is the root of all evil?!"

"Isn't money the root of all evil?" Sasori commented dryly.

Hidan face-planted before shouting, "Whatever, you fucker! Just know that TV is bad for you, damnit!"

"And who told you that crap?" asked Deidara, nudging his Danna's shoulder when Hidan sputtered.

"W-well--"

"Must've been Kisame, right?" Sasori guessed, smirking.

Hidan's eyebrows furrowed.

"Wait, how the fuck did you know that, shorty?" The man seemed to contemplate a bit, then decided that he really didn't want to know. "Nevermind," he said. "Just tell me where Kisame is now."

Deidara pointed to the second to the last room down the hall.

"Thanks," he nodded to the blond, then stomped out of the room in a flurry. "KISAME, YOU SHARK-BAIT! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" Hidan roared, footsteps echoing throughout the stony hallway. The two artists heard Kisame shrieking like a girl, and the sound of dozens of doors being slammed as heavy footfalls thudded up and down the passageway. It took ten minutes until Itachi's shout interrupted Hidan's blood fest.

"You have three seconds to step away from my partner, or you will be seeing my face in your dreams for the next seventy-two hours."

As predicted, the Jashinist yelped, and scuttled loudly away. Everyone feared Itachi, and it was pretty obvious why: the Tsukiyomi. Who the hell would want to see their deaths for three days straight?

Deidara and Sasori shared a grin.

"Knew that would happen," Deidara whispered conspiratorially, giggling. Unfortunately for him, it was then, that his face chose to materialize on the screen.

"Oh, hey, it's your interview now," Sasori said, astonished. "I thought you said you didn't have one--"

Deidara was quick to cover the screen from his Danna's eyes.

"Eheheh," the blond chuckled nervously, "You see Danna, I sort of lied a bit…"

"You what?" Sasori snapped, trying to push his partner out of the screen's way. "Move it, Deidara. I want to see what you guys were talking about."

"No!"

"Move!" he growled.

"No!" Deidara kept shaking his head.

"Damnit, you brat, move it!"

"W-WAIT!"

Too late.

Since Sasori was obviously the stronger of the two, he easily shoved the blond away from the screen.

But what he saw wasn't what he thought he'd see--

"What the fuck-?"

He watched as Deidara pulled his hair down from its typical ponytail, mocha eyes only widening as the golden silk spilled over slim shoulders.

* * *

"Is this really necessary?" Deidara asks, fidgeting in place for a while, as Pein inspects his blond hair.

"Just wanted to see if it was as pretty as it looked," Pein states, laughing when Deidara flushes.

"This un... I don't have to strip, right?" Deidara keeps fidgeting, as an evil glint appears in Pein's eyes.

"That's a splendid idea, Deidara-san!" the man says, and gestures for the blond to undress.

"Well?" Pein queries blankly, watching as Deidara turns three different shades of pink.

"B-but--"

"But what?" Pein feigns innocence, knowing he was making his future associate uncomfortable.

"D-do I really have to, un?" Deidara manages to splutter out, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

Pein thinks about it for a split second, then shrugs.

"If you really didn't want to be in the Akatsuki, I guess you could just leave now--"

"N-no!" Deidara panics, "I'll do it, un!" He swiftly illustrates his point by discarding his mesh shirt, his pale skin trembling under Pein's heavy scrutiny.

"Hm." Pein rubs his chin, "And your pants?"

"M-my pants, too un?!" Deidara looks positively scandalised.

"Yes." Pein says, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"U-un…"

With shaky fingers, Deidara slowly unbuttons his pants, sliding the material off his long and lithe legs, showing--

* * *

"Sasori-no-Danna!" Deidara shouted, catching Sasori's fainting form.

His Danna's head flopped uselessly to the side, while a thin line of drool escaped his mouth. He looked like he was having a very nice dream.

"_Mhm, chest_..." the redhead mumbled, turning his head to the side so his nose nuzzled up against Deidara's shoulder.

"Told you not to look there, un," the blond grumbled, knowing that the mouth on his chest was grotesque. He was rather sensitive about it. But you know, that didn't really explain the blood trickling down Sasori's nose.

Deidara blinked confusedly. The blond nin wasn't aware of the fact that his partner could still bleed. Techinically, his Danna was a puppet, and puppets didn't have any blood and--

--this was all just confusing him. So he'd better leave it at that.

He shook Sasori's shoulder.

"Hey Danna your nose is--"

"--Hey you two, could you please tell me why Hidan was--" Itachi suddenly stepped into the room, his handsome face freezing in a comical look of shock. His eyes flicked to the TV, seeing Deidara's nearly naked form.

"Itachi-san?" Deidara turned to look at Itachi's frozen expression.

As always, people seemed to jump to conclusions when they saw naked body (Deidara) plus perverted, leering voyeur (Pein) which always, if not mostly, equaled man secks.

"Y-you and Leader-sama are--!"

The Uchiha suddenly dropped in a dead faint, much like what Sasori had done a few seconds earlier. Both male's noses were still bleeding profusely.

Deidara sighed.

"Aww, man!" he whined, and kicked at Itachi's left leg. "I really should've blown up that screen while I still had the chance!"

Now how was he going to clean up all the blood on the floor?

* * *

**A/N:** See? It's an exercise! Switching from First-POV, to Third-POV is fun! Confusing, but fun:D


	5. Callipygian

**DISCLAIM IT**: No. Just…no. Why do I have to put you up every chapter? WHY?!

**A/N: **The slow realization that life is_ dragging_ is like…well, realizing that my orientation affects my relationships. DAMN YOU TO HELL, FREUD! Anyway, you babes get to have a very,_ very _weird chapter. Courtesy of my fucking imagination. Thank you, thank you.

**Warnings**: Pervy-ness, crackness, and MM.

**READ ME**: Damnit, if you guys read these oneshots, PLEASE give me a friggen' plot bunny or a challenge. I accept anything with Sasori and Deidara as the main pairing/characters. I SHIT YOU NOT, OKAY?! I'm running out of ideas to type…e-e

**A/N:** Oh. Well, I wasn't technically supposed to post this chapter yet, because I had to put something before this—but…alas, that's all right. You'll get the OTHER good chapter with fanart soon. I love my sister. -Hearts-

**EXTRA WARNINGS**: This chapter is dedicated to Sasori himself. We all know he's uke-material. So just admit it, sweetpies.

* * *

Callipygian

* * *

It was such a shame that the Akatsuki cloak covered the more important details.

Like for instance: the _rump_.

Sasori enjoyed watching Itachi sashay from one place to the next. It was like watching a male model, strutting down the catwalk in all of his bronzy-glory. The redhead knew that the Uchiha must've missed his phone call, because he made one hell of an eye candy on legs. You know, with his blazing red Sharingan and 'emo-me-not' attitude.

Le sigh.

It was such a shame to obscure the man's beauty.

And really, this was coming from a man turned puppet—it meant a _hell _of a lot.

Too bad for him though, because the stunning man was utterly enamoured with his partner, the shark-like Kisame. When he had discovered that tidbit, a few days after his partner, Orochimaru's defection--

Well, to make a long story short:

Sasori wasn't a very happy puppet-boy.

He had kicked, he had screamed, and he had uttered profanities--

Of course, all in his mind. He would _never_ do that for real, or his reputation for being a hunched-back, ugly son of a bitch would be compromised. He rather liked the idea of being a fearsome and ugly character. It was better than--well, his _real_ self.

The short, scrawny, and _redheaded _Sasori.

Yeah, he was pretty self-conscious about it all, and having red hair was one of his sore points.

Who the hell had orange-burnt hair these days?

Anyway, with that being said, Sasori was pretty depressed with himself. He had once again fallen into lust with a younger member (i.e. Uchiha fucking Itachi), and had _also, _in the process, gotten his cylindrical heart torn to pieces.

Sasori lamented on his unrequited love for days.

Thus, when mourning the death of his metaphorical part, Sasori had actually gone into seclusion, refusing to come out of his rooms until Leader-sama had to literally drag him out by the tail.

His frustrated scream had reverberated throughout the Base for two days, and Sasori could proudly state that Kisame's earache was all _his_ fault.

And, anyway, even though he had never really forgiven Leader for that particular transgression, Sasori still had to do his job of assassinating people and yade yade yada; whatever else S-Class Missing Nins did in their free time. You know, steal money, kill people, pillage and stuff.

It came with the job of being in a fearsome organization, after all.

But_ really,_ it had taken him _ages _to get Hiruko back to working order (and not to mention three paychecks)!

Regardless of his blatant grudge, Sasori was _still f_orced to converse with Society (well, just the other Akatsuki members). Though this time, Sasori, being the wiser man, chose to remain as bitter as a bitter melon, and as unapproachable as solid rock. He prided himself for actually coming up with witty remarks. It had taken him the better part of the First Week of Headaches (as he dubbed it) to make them.

Here was an example:

Kakuzu: -_Edgy side-glance- _Your water bills. They're overdue. Are you ever going to pay them?

Sasori: -_Smirk_- How about never? Is never good enough for you? Or do you want a limb next to the head on your bed?

Kakuzu: …No, no thank you. Sorry to have intruded you in your dark and terrifying lair, Sasori-sama. ­–_Humbly bows before scurrying away-_

Or with one of the stupider members:

Kisame: -_Grin_- Hey, man, what's up?!

Sasori: -Glare- Do you _mind_-? I'm trying to ignore you.

Kisame: -_Shuffles feet_- ……

Sasori: What, Shark? Did I hurt your feelings? I promise that I'll try being nicer if you try being smarter.

Yeah.

He was _still _bitter that a _shark-man_ had beaten _him, _a _puppet-man_. If he was ever to go on record, he'd have to tell to the judge and coppers about his defeat in love.

And yes, all of these conversations were grossly exaggerated.

Anyhow, after two weeks of being a total asshole, Sasori was happily left alone, with no partner, no friend, and only a roomful of puppets to keep him company.

He was so _very_,_ very _happy.

Until_ he _came along and burst Sasori's happy bubble. Bastard. Cheeky, good-for-nothing, gorgeous bastard.

* * *

"Is this who you're going to partner me up with, un?" said a blond-haired man, turning caesious eyes to Sasori. His name was Deidara, S-class missing-nin from Iwagakure. Multiple attempts to murder the Tsuchikage and twenty terrorist bombings, Deidara had a large amount of money riding on his pretty little head.

Perfect for an organization like Akatsuki.

Damnit.

Sasori, still obviously in Hiruko, grumbled at his ill-luck. He just _had _to get the young one again, huh? Nothing like a good kick in the ass from karma. No sirree. He probably would want in on the man's pants within…he gave himself a couple of days.

Leader-sama looked vaguely satisfied.

"Yes," the shadowy man confirmed, and Deidara blanched.

Sasori could tell that the blond was having trouble stomaching this. Well, that made both of them, then.

"Is this some mistake un, because he really doesn't look like partner-material. Are you _sure_ that he's my partner, un?" the blond went on to ask, oblivious to the teeth grinding from Sasori's part.

Shadowy-figure with a stick up his ass frowned.

"Yes, the semi-bald man is."

Offended at the candid remark, Sasori nearly threw a righteous hissy fit.

Okay, so no one ever really saw him in his real form--it wasn't as if Hiruko was butt-_ugly_. He was just very hard to look at and get along with. You know, with his bloodshot eyes, bandana covered face, hunched-back body--

Hm. Maybe that was the reason why Itachi hadn't liked it when Sasori had groped him? It made a lot of sense, considering that the Uchiha had turned green and rushed to the closest bathroom.

…Oh well, that was another mystery to solve for Sasori Holmes.

With a barely imperceptible nod, Sasori slid his way to his partner and extended his ugly hand. No, not the nice human one, but the one with the poison needles and gas.

He was pretty disappointed when Deidara took it without running for the hills.

Shaking his hand thoroughly before regarding their shadowy leader, Deidara tentatively opened his mouth, and said, "So, un, my partner's an ugly freak?" The attractive blond shot a disgusted glance to the obviously offended Sasori, who glared in return.

"Unfortunately," Pein had muttered, and Sasori shot the two assholes an acidic scowl. Okay, that was it; the next person who commented on his ugliness would get a sting up their ass.

Suddenly, Hidan jogged into the fancy ceremonial room carved out of rocks, grinning his usual shit-eating grin.

"Hey, Deidara, Leader-sama, ugly hunchback-san!" the Jashinist greeted in his usual assholey way.

Sasori twitched and launched his stinger at the bastard.

Least to say, Hidan really _did_ get a sting up his ass.

Or at least, one on his right butt cheek.

* * *

"No."

"You have to give him the antidote, Sasori-san."

"No," Sasori sulked, and if he wasn't in Hiruko, would've crossed his arms and pouted.

For everyone's information, Sasori was _so_ not giving it over. Pein would have to pry it from his cold, dead fingers first. Besides, he wouldn't have stung anybody if they'd just kept their stupid mouths shut.

"Sasori," Pein warned.

"No."

"Okay, that's it."

With a snap of his fingers, Hiruko suddenly split in half, causing the moody Sasori to drop onto the hard-cave floor.

In front of _all _the other Akatsuki members.

In his real form.

With his five-foot, four inch, red-haired, _real_ form.

…Did he forget to mention that it was his _real_ form?

Looking at their shocked faces, Sasori inwardly cursed his luck.

Damnit! Now how was he going to explain this one? Would he have to lie, or just say this was a figment of their dirty imaginations?

"Sasori," Leader-sama said, abruptly snapping Sasori out of his scheming. "I've kept your secret long enough."

Sasori sulked some more.

It wasn't like Pein _couldn't _keep a secret his whole entire life, right? It wouldn't _kill _him to keep Sasori's real identity a secret. In fact, the secret wouldn't kill him, but Sasori was sure as hell that the stick up his ass would.

Poor overlapping identity, Sasori grieved. He would never be allowed to find himself!

...And speaking of identities...

The poor, _poor_ Hiruko was laying in a small, sad pile of wood right next to him.

Damnit.

And he liked being an ugly son of a bitch, _whythankyouverymuch_.

"Sasori, if you don't give it to him, I'll let Deidara _destroy _Hiruko," Pein threatened, Rinnegan eyes narrowed into slits. He continued at Sasori's growl, "Hidan has a mission tomorrow, and I can't afford anyone to be bedridden for two weeks. Unless of course, _you'd_ like to take his mission and partner up with _Kakuzu_," the man added slyly.

Sasori wanted to cry and stomp his feet around like the fourteen-year old his body was. But unfortunately, time had to slap him in the face and remind Sasori that he was actually a thirty-plus year old man, _not _a hormone-ridden fourteen-year old boy.

Aww. Life sucked.

"Fine," Sasori mumbled, handing over the crystal vial filled with violet liquid. Really, if Leader-sama wasn't such a nice-ass, everyone would have gone their merry old ways and _not_ see his real form. None of this would've happened if Leader hadn't introduced him to his new idiot partner.

Bastard.

When said bastard—ahem, _Leader_ had left, the other members gave Sasori a look that read 'wtf'. Even Hidan, from his place on the floor, managed to shoot the crazy redhead a flabbergasted stare.

"Why are you a little boy, un?" Deidara asked, and Sasori was about to launch himself at the blond, but thought better of it. He'd be better off acting like the high and mighty bastard he was before all of this happened.

Sasori glared, "None of your business, brat."

Gathering Hiruko into a seal, the cute redhead marched away, nose stuck up high in the air.

Hah! Eat dust you bastards! He thought, feeling supremely satisfied with himself.

But that was just the beginning of his problems.

* * *

A week after the blond had been initiated into Akatsuki, the rest of the members, especially Tobi and Deidara, had taken up a new favorite hobby called: "Let's try and get Sasori to crack!"

They did everything from ironing his clothes, to cleaning his dishes, to hugging him at random times of the day, and even worse—_offer to wash his back_, until Sasori had actually blown up on Zetsu and yelled himself hoarse.

Just what the hell were those loonies thinking?!

Did they really think he was going to forgive them, after fifteen years of hearing, "Oh, Sasori-san, is your tail still stuck up your ass?" or "Hey, Sasori-san, how's the smell coming from your bandana?"

No! He wasn't easy, and he'd never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, _ever_ forgive them. Nothing they'd do would ever amount to the pain that Sasori had gone through.

Not even if Itachi groped him, or if Deidara would snuggle up to him in his bed.

Nope, still no forgiveness.

But at one point in his eternal life, Sasori would've been squealing and wiggling his butt at the attention--

But no. Not now. Not after fifteen years of having to put up with their shit.

Because Sasori was a changed man.

He was--

(Dun, dah, duh, dahhhh!)

For a lack of better words:

A_ celibate _man.

* * *

"Wanna know something, Deidara?" Itachi said, sipping on his curry-flavoured Ramune. Every member (barring Sasori, Leader-sama and Konan), were sitting on the dining room table, drinking their own drinks that ranged from multiple flavours of Ramune, Chocolate Milk, and even weirder, blood.

Now that was Kakuzu, and no one bothered to tell him that it _wasn't_ tomato juice.

"What, un?" Deidara asked, cocking his head to the side, blond fringe obscuring his left eye.

Itachi rumbled, "Sasori has a nice butt."

"Mhm."

Everyone hummed in agreement.

Then, after a rather awkward silence, Tobi said, "Sasori-sempai has nice eyes."

"Mhm."

They all hummed in agreement.

"And nice hair," piped-up Hidan, who had totally forgiven Sasori for the poison-incident-thingy. Who could stay mad at such a cute wittle boy like him?

"Mhm."

Once again, the whole table hummed in agreement.

"Hey," Zetsu spoke up, startling everyone. "Do you think I'll get much for selling these pictures of Sasori in his pyjamas?"

The Akatsuki males suddenly turned ravenous, setting their hungry eyes at the somewhat terrified form of Zetsu.

"WHERE?!" Tobi shrieked wildly.

"Uh--here," Zetsu weakly waved a hand of photos around. One photo had Sasori turned on his side, his boxers riding low enough to show his happy trail. And there was another--

Ooo, la la—

Hidan and Itachi's nose bled, after staring at the picture for one second too long.

It was a picture of Sasori, back arched, trying to reach for an itch somewhere on his spine.

And lo and behold, Zetsu held the last and _final_ one--

This caused everyone's heart to go into palpitations:

It was an adorable picture of--

_WAIT. WAIT. BACKTRACK!_

Itachi, Kisame, Hidan, Kakuzu, and Tobi, _so _did not see a picture of Deidara holding Sasori lovingly to his chest. They _so _did not see it! But, they had to admit, after sixteen minutes of staring, the slender form of Deidara would _not _just metamorphosize into a hot bishounen plushie.

Five pairs of murderous eyes pinned Deidara in place.

The blond put his hands up in defence, "I didn't do anything, I swear it, un!" he shouted, edging away when Kakuzu loomed above him, green eyes glinting madly in the artificial lighting of the nearby kitchen.

"LIAR!" Kakuzu yelled.

"N-no, un! I didn't touch him, I swear it!" Deidara yelled back.

"You lie," Itachi growled out, pushing away from his chair and standing.

"N-no, I'm not, un!"

"Yeah, you are," Kisame added, also standing up and glaring at the blond.

Deidara shook his head profusely. "I swear that I'm not, un!"

"LIARS BURN IN HELL!" Hidan interjected with a howl, banging his fists onto the table. Their drinks clattered to the floor, but at this point, no one except Zetsu really gave a damn.

"Hey, watch it, you fuckers--my Pomegrante juice!" the plant-like man warned, and was ignored by everybody.

Tobi's mannerisms and outward visage changed and even though the Akatsuki males still believed him to be a total moron, he proved them wrong by pointing crudely at Deidara and saying, "You _did _him."

There was outraged silence, then it all clicked and made sense like an intergalactic epiphany that only hits people during a midlife crisis--

"You_ really _did something to him," the five men ground out, eyes blazing with fury.

"N-_no_, I didn't!" Deidara was ready to tear his hair out. That, or cower behind Zetsu. "I, just--well...he just looked so nice and cute and peaceful in his boxers that I—"

"GET HIM!" Tobi screeched.

And thus, the infamous race of, 'Murder the blond before he gets into Sasori's pantaloons' began.

It was funny how everyone, in the midst of jealousy, forgot that there was a hidden picture behind the one of Deidara hugging Sasori.

Zetsu fingered the photo in his hands and grinned to himself.

It was a nice snapshot of Sasori bending down to retrieve a hammer from under his workshop table, the camera zooming in on his nicely shaped ass.

* * *

**A/N: **I guess, the point of this chapter was butts. I had to make it longer, so people could get the gist of it, but yeah.

**Callipygian**: Adjective. _Having Beautiful Buttocks_

That's the whole meaning to this chapter. xD God, I was laughing my ass off when I first saw the word, and _knew _I had to base a story off of it. :3


	6. The Reprisal

**USUAL DISCLAIM IT**: Nope. Don't own. My brilliance is not appreciated at Masashi's work place. I was booted out of there, telling him that SasuNaru and DeiSaso was the best shonen-ai pairing this side of the hemisphere.

I kid, I kid. Just know I don't own.

**A/N:** Hm. Inspiration is killing me. I've got to do something that gets my inspiration UP. Or at least gets my yaoi-muse up. Something preferably angsty, because—well…I make too many humorous one-shots. I've gotta make a sad one, right?

**WARNINGS**: Cross-dressing (Sasori in a pinafore), Deidara-SEME, weird spelling, and MM.

**Additional A/N: **If you want to see the picture, leave me a message or review. Trust me, you'll want to see the dress. I'd actually put the url here, but you know ffnet. ;3

**EXTRA EXTRA NOTE**: Okay. I've got the picture up. Love my sibling and hail her future babies. :3

**EDIT 04.01.08 Lookey! I live! And graduated! Har har. Love me and my Ragnarok-addicted self. xD Oh, and the link for Sasori's dress is up. If you want to take a look at it, go right ahead, babes. D: Or go to my profile and you'll see it up for grabs. I squealed at it, you can squeal at it too.  
**

* * *

The Reprisal

* * *

"Tell me again, Deidara, why I'm in a dress," Sasori said, lips twisting to resemble a frown. He was extremely uncomfortable in a black pinafore that one usually saw women wearing, and the looks he was receiving from passing villagers made him even more so.

Was it so unusual to see someone in an elaborate dress?

Sasori frowned and looked down at himself.

Granted, the pinafore wasa bit…_garish_, but it got the job done. He looked like a half-decent female.

The sleeveless black dress flowed down his waist and stopped mid-thigh, showing much more of his leg than Sasori wanted. To give him the illusion of having even longer limbs, Deidara had insisted he wear fishnet stockings, and the blond was adamant in making him wear the Mary Janes. Sasori had thrown a righteous hissy fit the whole time Konan was dressing him.

However, to be honest, the redhead hadn't actually minded all the fancy things he was forced to wear. The only thing that had actually bugged him was the look in Deidara's visible eye--it made Sasori want to run to the hills, preferably screaming.

"Well, Danna, un!" the tall blond replied, grinning at the lovely sight of the redhead in a gown. "It's for our mission, remember, un? Leader-sama said one of us had to dress like a female and--"

"No, no, I got that part," Sasori interrupted, attempting to pull down the pinafore a bit. It had fluttered dangerously high because of a gust of wind, and the blond entertained the thought of pinning his Danna down and molesting him.

_Or doing something on the lines of that_, Deidara thought, knowing that he'd get kneed in the crotch for it.

"Deidara? Are you even listening to me?"

Deidara shot his adorable, three-inch shorter and did he mention--adorable?-- partner a shit-eating grin.

"Un, Danna! I was!"

Sasori looked at him suspiciously.

"Hn, just checking. Anyway," the redhead went on to say, "I can't understand why _I'm _the one wearing a dress." He gestured to the black and white apron that was attached to the cotton party dress. "I mean, it's pretty obvious that you're the more effeminate one, so I don't know why Leader-sama agreed with Hidan's ridiculous notion of dressing me in this stupid getup."

Deidara had to laugh at his Danna's ruffled expression.

"Danna!" the blond admonished, wiping the tears of mirth that escaped his eye. "You're so funny, un!"

Sasori gave Deidara a deadpanned stare.

"And why would I be?" he said, tone icy like the arctic winds that whipped through his russet eyes.

This reaction caused Deidara to laugh even harder. "It's because you're prettier than I am, un!" Deidara, at this point, chose to flip his hair to one side and grin with a flourish. The light that bounced off his teeth made Sasori's eyes hurt.

"But…but what about the hair?" Sasori gestured weakly to the golden mane that was placed in a low-ponytail, much like Itachi's own.

Deidara smiled good-naturedly, adjusting his formal tie and black suit. "Well Danna, my long hair just makes me metro; it doesn't make me pretty—it just adds to my masculine flair!"

Sasori cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"So you're telling me that, even in spite of your girly figure and mannerism, that you're not pretty?" Sasori said, scowling at the passing man that groped his butt. He aimed a kick at the leering white-haired pervert, smiling in triumph as his foot connected to the man's family jewels.

"Hah, how do you like me now, bitch?" the redhead laughed, then turned innocently back to Deidara, whose jaw was hanging by its hinges. The man, who had strange, spiky white hair and red markings on his face groaned, staggering to the nearby bathhouse.

After five minutes of just standing there, Deidara was still gaping at him.

"Stop that, Deidara, or a fly will land on your tongue," Sasori warned.

He considered stabbing the blond with the kunai in his apron, then thought better of it. He'd waste a valuable weapon if he did, and they were pretty damn expensive. No use trying to do anything with it.

"Well-?" Sasori snapped, and the blond instantly did as he was bid.

"Bad, Danna, un!" Deidara exclaimed, much like a worried parent, "Don't do stuff like that to normal people! They'll suspect something, un!"

"Like they haven't already," Sasori muttered, but knew that his partner was right. He had to play the docile female.

…For now.

He still had to get Deidara back for the 'What are you made out of, un' question.

Inwardly smirking, the redhead let himself be dragged off to the highly sophisticated mansion down the road. It was an ivory-coloured home, with green vines crawling all over the smooth marble. Large and probably very expensive archways met the pair's stunned eyes, and Sasori felt Deidara's hand perspire.

So, the blond was uncomfortable around rich people? He mused. Well that explained his unnecessary hatred towards them.

Without knowing what he was doing, Sasori squeezed his partner's hand, and to his immense surprise--felt it squeeze back.

* * *

The plump woman that sat across from them was by no means ugly. Though her face was heavily laden with powder, one could tell by her cataract-like eyes that she once was a veritable beauty. At least, Sasori could, but judging from Deidara's wince, the blond couldn't.

Idiot.

"So," she began, placing her teacup daintily back onto its glass saucer. "You want me to give you my family heirloom."

"Un!" Deidara nodded, and Sasori felt a mild stirring of sympathy for the woman: he never had to listen to Deidara babble for more than an hour. His chatter was earache inducing.

His partner suddenly twitched, and Sasori could tell that Deidara was still very nervous.

When they had stepped into the gargantuan threshold, the woman's nursemaid had ushered them into a large dining room and told them to wait.

"Five minutes," the young woman had said.

But it took about thirty minutes for the Mistress to hobble down the two hundred steps that led into the dining room, then another twenty minutes for her to settle down onto a plush loveseat near them and THEN--

Then it took the old biddy five minutes to stare at them and say,

"My! What a beautiful little girl!"

She was all sparkles and hearts as she reached over to squeeze Sasori's cheek.

_'Lemme at'em_, _LEMME AT'EM!' _Sasori mentally frothed at the mouth. Contemplating on throwing the expensive cup of tea to her face, Sasori thought about the pros and cons, then finally decided.

Small hand reaching for the china, he was only stopped by Deidara, who looked truly apologetic. The blond had somehow managed to veer Sasori's appendages away from the poor drink.

"Sorry, ma'am, but my little _girl _cousin here is a bit antsy," Deidara said in his charmingly clipped Iwa accent. "She always gets these_ urges _at the most inappropriate times."

The old woman gave a tinkling laugh.

"Oh, really, sir? Well my great granddaughter is like that too!" the woman beamed. "She sometimes even hits people with her dolls, Buddha bless her soul!"

"Ahh, my cousin and your great granddaughter seem to have a lot alike!" Deidara feigned interest, smiling in a winsome manner as the old lady blushed to the roots of her gray hair.

Meanwhile, throughout the whole affair, Sasori was seething in his seat, pulling at a loose string from his dress.

_Ma'am?! **MA'AM?! **Just when the hell did he learn manners? _Sasori inwardly fumed, lips set into a determined line as he tore the black string straight off. He was about to open his mouth again, when Deidara 'accidentally' nudged his side, causing the wind to be blown out of his teeth in a rather loud hiss.

"Hum--what is it, boy?" the woman squinted, and he could only offer the crone a (what he hoped to be) soft smile. When she turned back to talk to his partner, Sasori let the smile drop, choosing to glare daggers at the aristocratic duo in front of him.

He was so going to kill Deidara.

Slowly.

And with a metal spoon.

With that comforting thought, he ignored the two conversing idiots next to him, and rudely got up. He watched as the blond shot him a pleading glance that read 'please stay with me please', but Sasori felt slightly sadistic at the moment, so he chose to leave and explore the gleaming white mansion.

He completely missed the fact that Deidara's blue gaze was fixed on his butt.

* * *

"So, finally got the scroll?"

Sasori, still in his pinafore, kicked at the dirt on the pathway. He hadn't felt the need to change because—well, he was rather comfortable. That, and it was a hassle to get out, and the redhead was feeling a tad bit lazy from their mission.

"Un," Deidara said, exhausted. His shoulders visibly wilted as he lugged his feet behind his pretty Danna. "Danna un, remind me to never do another mission like this: that ugly old hag talked so much!" the blond moaned. "I thought she'd never shut up about her prestigious family history!"

"And what did you think about that?" the redhead asked, already anticipating the answer.

"She can shove her history up her wrinkly ass," Deidara snarled predictably, attempting to look very much like the deranged Akatsuki member that he was. Just to let everyone know, the blond failed miserably, and only ended looking like the exhausted S-Class Missing Nin he really was.

Fumbling in his cloak for the purple scroll, Deidara handed the thrice-damned thing to Sasori, who suppressed the smirk that formed on his lips.

"I see," he said in a serene tone. "But, just to let you know Deidara, we both could've just stolen the scroll instead of doing all of this goody-goody crap. In fact, we could've just avoided this whole situation altogether, if Hidan hadn't opened up his big mouth and say that this was the best course of action."

Deidara looked ready to kill himself.

"B-but—" the blond spluttered, "the dress--and your attitude--and--Leader-sama--!"

"Oh do shut your mouth," Sasori replied in his usual brusque manner. He then turned on his heel and walked away, knowing instinctively that Deidara was gawping after him.

Hm. That was strange. Sasori liked the way his dress swayed in the wind.

This factor mildly disturbed him, but Sasori thought nothing of it, instead choosing to let his dress sway some more.

...He was_ so_ going to get Konan to wrap this up for him.

"D-danna!" Deidara suddenly called, and Sasori could tell that the blond was struggling to reign in his temper.

"…What?" he didn't bother to turn.

"If we didn't need to do this at all, then what was the whole mission for?" Deidara shouted, and Sasori hadn't bothered to stifle his laugh.

"Consider it as revenge, brat," the redhead tossed over his shoulder, allowing his livid partner to see his smug smirk.

As the puppeteer walked back to the base, with an angry Deidara trailing behind him, Sasori inwardly let out a satisfied smile.

Ahh, cross-dressing missions had never felt so good.

* * *

**A/N:**Some one-shots are continuations of other one-shots…so, yeah. Whatever doods. I hope you enjoy all of what I'm writing. :3 I have the plotbunny one that Side-CH was so kind to tell me of.


	7. Interlude: The Akatsuki

**DISCLAIM IT: **No. Never. Not even once. Damnit.

**A/N**: Okay, so I live still. I feel slightly guilty for updating this more than _His Mystery_, but alas. I cannot do anything other than oneshots until my Planet-block is gone. Huuhuu. ;-;

**WARNINGS**: Bad attempt at humor, OOC-ness, crackness, bad-writing, language, and MM.

**BRIEF SUMMARY SO YOU GUYS DON'T GET BORED**: Deidara decides to wreak havoc with a little white lie.

* * *

Interlude UNE: The Akatsuki

* * *

Hot breath spilled down his throat and to his collarbone, causing Itachi to furrow his brow and turn over. The thing above him was persistent though, and continued to breathe on him every time he moved or swatted at it.

"Mhm, stop it," Itachi moaned, and managed to punch the thing square in the jaw.

"Fucking ouch!" growled the thing, and in retaliation, pinned Itachi's hands above his head.

This woke the Uchiha up instantly.

Snapping sharingan eyes open, Itachi stared straight into Kisame's eyes, then sighed, realizing it was only his idiot partner. "What, pray tell, are you doing to me so late this night?" he drawled, and shifted underneath the shark-nin. A leg somehow squeezed its way between his thighs, and Itachi's breath hitched.

"Damnit, Kisame!" the Uchiha cursed, arching up. "I'm tired, and I don't feel like it--"

Kisame leaned down and nuzzled his neck.

"Oh you'll feel like it by the time I'm through with you," he purred, running frisky hands along Itachi's sides.

The Uchiha was about to protest and buck the large man off him when Hidan burst into the room yelling, "_IT'S SASORI'S BIRTHDAY!_"

The two partners simultaneously groaned.

Reluctantly moving off of Itachi, Kisame was sorely tempted to pound the living shit out of the bouncing Jashinist in front of him.

"You motherfucking bastard," he spat, and directed a livid glare to the confused man.

"What, did I do something wrong?" Hidan asked, lips twisting into a reflexive sneer. "I was just telling you that it was Sasori's birthday."

"At the middle of the god-forsaken night?" Kisame snarled, and Itachi could only sigh and huddle deeper into his duvet. He hoped that he wouldn't be pulled into this whole argument. He was still feeling tired from his mission.

"Did you just say _God_?!" the silver-haired nin's brow puckered, purple eyes wide in a comical look of shock. After a moment, they narrowed into slits. "You fucking heathen! How dare you say that name in front of my fucking face!" he yelled.

"Oh why don't you just stick a fucking pole through your ass, so it could save me the trouble of listening to you speak," Kisame said, towering over him.

"Oh yeah, well why don't you dunk your head in your fucking aquarium and let those fucking piranhas have their wicked way with you!" Hidan shot back, trying to also tower above Kisame, to no avail. Five inches was five inches after all.

Kisame's face turned an ugly purple.

"Why you little bastard--"

Deidara's head poked into the room. "Hey, I heard arguing, un!" the blond stated with a quirky grin. "You guys aren't fighting, right?"

The two idiots shot static glares at each other and growled out a low,

"_No_."

Laughing, Deidara lifted his hand into a peace sign. "Okay, that's good, un! Because if you were, I'd have to blow you up for ruining Sasori-no-Danna's birthday!"

Happily, and much to the relief of Itachi and everyone else in the room, the blond left, his footsteps skipping loudly down the hall.

Kisame and Hidan continued shooting daggers at each other.

"You're lucky," said Kisame, shouldering up Samehada. "If that idiot fucker didn't interrupt, I would've lopped your head clean off."

"Well same goes to you," Hidan sneered. He gave the ex-mist nin a glare before stalking out of the room, saying, "Leader-sama expects everyone to have a gift for that son of a bitch Sasori. He says to make it snappy."

The door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

"Damnit." Kakuzu rubbed his chin. "What to get Sasori-san so he doesn't maul my ass later?" The stitched nin sat on his custom chair in the dining room, head bent and looking through the newspaper in his hands.

"How about some new puppet string, un!" Deidara cheered.

Startled, Kakuzu whipped out a kunai, then saw Deidara and grumbled, putting it away. "One day, you're going to kill yourself that way," he told the blond in a huff.

"Nah, un!" Deidara grinned, placing his stitched arms behind his head. "I'm too sexy for that."

"...Uh huh…" Kakuzu gazed at him disbelievingly before returning to his paper. "I'll think about the string. Jashin knows that they're fucking expensive."

"Stingy bastard," Deidara quipped, quickly running out the room when Kakuzu literally exhaled fire behind him.

* * *

"Leader-sama!" Deidara yelled, jogging into the ceremonial room, his back cloak a bit singed.

The pierced man had to raise an eyebrow at that.

"Do I even want to know?" he wondered out loud, causing Deidara to giggle in an unmanly way.

"Nope, un!" the blond shook his head profusely, showering his leader with a starry-eyed smile all the while.

Pein would never admit this to anyone, but Deidara's smiles inspired him to go on a mass homicidal rage. He was proud that a member of the Akatsuki could stir anyone to do anything in his name. Be it evil or good, it didn't matter because whatever Deidara wanted, it would just be handed over to him on a silver platter.

Lucky bastard.

"So." Pein said, seating himself on the large stone throne.

"So," Deidara echoed, cocking his head to the side.

Silence.

"What the hell are you here for?" the ginger-haired man eventually growled out, jaw twitching. "If you're just going to waste my time like the last meeting—"

"No way, un!" Deidara exclaimed, looking very serious. "It's Sasori-danna's birthday today, and I thought I could tell everyone about it, un!"

Pein resisted the urge to strangle the cutesy nin.

"So _you're_ telling me that I should care for Sasori-san's birthday," Pein deadpanned, inspecting his dark blue nails with a thinly-veiled scowl. "Do you know, Deidara, that this is not a _happy _organization, but a fearsome one?"

Deidara nodded. "Un, but—"

"Do _fearsome_ organizations need to celebrate birthdays?" Pein calmly asked.

"No but--"

"Do _fearsome _organizations need to celebrate holidays and go on vacations like ordinary, every-day corrupt corporations?"

"Un but--"

"Do we need to _care_ for each other like we're family?"

"Yes, un--"

"Then why the hell are you here and not spending your time with your Danna?!" The Leader boomed, Rinnegan eyes spinning wildly in their sockets. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Deidara-chan!"

"H-hai, un!" Deidara quivered, blue eye weeping openly. "I should've known better, excuse me, Leader-sama!" The blond wept, and scuttled out of the room, leaving a vaguely satisfied Pein.

Pein tapped his chin.

"Hm, I should get him some ducktape," the ginger-haired man mused. "So he can shut Deidara's mouth closed. Or maybe I should just get him some needle and thread…"

* * *

Sasori gazed dispassionately around him, eyebrows elevating at the pink party streamers and banners that read, 'Happy Birthday Sasori-chan!'

It was enough to make him hurl.

"It's gotta be Deidara," the redhead muttered under his breath, stalking to the kitchen to only be assaulted with the sight of Deidara in an apron and Itachi in a chef suit.

His eyebrow ticked.

"What. Are. You._ Doing_?" he said in a deathly voice, and Deidara whipped his head back so fast that Sasori was afraid that his partner had gotten whiplash.

"Sasori-Danna!" the blond greeted, all smiles and dimples. There was a smudge of flour on his nose and cheeks, and Sasori was sorely tempted to dunk the man's face in a bucket

"Sasori-san," Itachi also greeted, fidgeting in place when Sasori pinned him down with a skeptical stare.

It was fairly obvious that the Uchiha was embarrassed. His cheeks were flushed and he had instantly shoved his glasses off and into his cloak sleeve.

Yep, blind as a bat all right.

Sasori ignored him in favor of staring up at his idiot partner with a frown.

"What are you doing?" he repeated.

"Baking a cake, un!" Deidara replied, stirring the porcelain bowl in his hands.

"For what?" he asked, confused.

"Your birthday, Sasori-san." Itachi was a gourmet cook and unfortunately, didn't cook for anyone asides his partner. He was as much as a stingy bastard as Kakuzu.

"I…see," Sasori said painfully. He didn't even know it was his birthday. "Go on…to whatever you were doing," he then gritted out, stomping out of the kitchens.

His eyebrow still ticking, Sasori made his way to his workshop.

He_ knew _that Deidara had something to do with it.

* * *

"Happy birthday to you!"

"Happy birthday to you!" sang the Akatsuki.

The lights were all off in the Dining Room, and everyone was dressed in their Sunday's best.

Or, at least, their Akatsuki best.

Every Sunday they attended the Akatsuki mass, where Pein and Hidan held their attention by preaching their insane beliefs about _blah_ masochism _blah_ world domination _blah_ sadism _blah_ dictatorship. The only person that actually wrote notes down was Orochimaru, and that son of a bitch was _long _gone.

In any case, Kisame had his arm around Itachi's shoulder, and the Uchiha had done his best to shrug it off. Of course, since it was Kisame, the shark-nin thought it was Itachi's way of showing that he was frisky, so in spite of Itachi's growl of discomfort, continued to manhandle him.

They both were wearing their—_sigh­—_Akatsuki cloaks.

Kakuzu was dressed in a suit that looked expensive but everyone knew that he had probably stolen it from the store at Amegakure. It would be found, later on that night, that _yes_ Kakuzu had stolen it, and _yes _the store was actually a lingerie store.

His idiot partner, Hidan, was wearing a Jashinist priest robe; complete with bloodstains and black dots that no one ever bothered asking about. And like the cult-worshipping bastard he was, also wore his white ceremonial mask. Talk about KKK.

Now Zetsu, God-bless—I mean, Jashin-curse his soul, had actually showered for a change and was in his new cloak. So that meant he didn't smell like dried blood _or _fried chicken. Whew.

Then there was Tobi.

Tobi had to use a kistune mask instead of his typical ugly one, seeing as Hidan had busted it earlier that morning. The masked-man was still sore about that incident, because he had annoyed slash pestered the Jashinist nonstop for the whole day.

Anyway, Konan looked the same and Pein hadn't felt the need to change out of his cloak, so he also looked the same.

Deidara, on the other hand, was wearing a party hat and a grey pinstripe suit with a long brown cane. He looked like the pimp at the warehouse that the Uchiha brat (aka Sasuke) frequented.

And Sasori, _yes_, was still in the same boring old Akatsuki cloak. Like he cared about his _supposed _birthday. Pfft. He was too good for that.

"Happy birthday to you—"

"You live in a zoo!" Hidan cackled out, and was promptly hit on the head by an annoyed Kakuzu, who ended up singing the rest of the song anyway.

"You look like a monkey—"

"And you smell like a zoo!" They all sang out, while Sasori could only place his face onto the desktop. His life sucked. Seriously. If only he could drown in the empty gift boxes that Kakuzu placed around him. Yeah. That was a good idea.

"_And there shall be light_!"

Pein clapped his hands, the lights magically turning on amidst Deidara, Kisame, and Hidan's amazed yells.

"So, what do you want to say, birthday boy?" questioned their Leader, knowing that he had earned more respect from his members for doing that little light stunt.

Yeah. You gotta love the clappers he bought at the hardware store.

Lifting his head, Sasori stared at them all like they were idiots. And seriously. They were.

He stared at them with wide, disbelieving brown eyes, and at last, said:

"It's not my birthday."

Silence.

Silence, silence--

Ooo, a whistle!

"Down Tobi! _**You idiot!**_"

Zetsu slapped his underling's head down.

As you could guess, there was more silence, until Deidara let out a nervous chuckle and edged his way out of the kitchen.

"Ahaha, I think I should go now."

Deidara turned and was about to run the hell away when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Head craning to peer behind him, the blond's face fell and a look of fear replaced his usual grin.

"Eheheh--Leader-sama, I can explain!"

He yelped as the other members crowded around him, cracking their knuckles.

* * *

Well, his birthday turned into a real _blast_.

Meaning that Deidara had actually blown the base up and ran out of the front door, fire literally trailing after him.

Of course, barring the fact that there were nine angry members hot on the blond's heel—well, that more than made Sasori's day. That meant he had the whole base with no one for company for about…Hmm, give or take—three days.

Whistling loudly to himself, Sasori wrenched the door open and pranced inside his room. He had an uncharacteristic skip to his step, and there was a fine blush on his cheeks.

Yeah, no one could ruin his day now.

He stripped off his clothes and jumped into bed, not noticing the obvious lump there.

"I feel _so _good," he murmured, and snuggled down into the sheets which seemed to squeak in protest.

"Hmm, that's strange--"

Sasori lifted the blanket up, then let out a shriek that everyone could hear from miles away.

* * *

"Pein?" Konan questioned softly, standing above a pool of water. It reflected her pretty azure hair, but Pein was a little too busy trying to understand how to talk to an old, traveling merchant.

"So you're saying that I have to do this, then do that?" Pein looked vaguely disgusted, doing a crude motion with his hands. You know, the donut goes with a hot dog movement. Or in more or less words, the finger goes into the hole and never comes back out.

The old man nodded sagely, and Pein turned green.

"Thanks but no thanks. I don't like her enough to do that," he muttered.

"Pein--"

"Not now, Konan, I'm a bit busy here."

"But Pein--" Konan seemed worried.

Pein whipped his head around to glare at her. "Quiet, Konan. Kouki is trying to tell me something."

The old man seemed to be a mindspeaker, so Pein had to crane his neck this way and that to understand him. A look of dawning realisation crossed Pein's pierced features.

"Ohhh, so doing _that _is a sign of affection...Hm, then it won't be so bad, right?"

Murky brown eyes twinkled in assent.

Tugging on his cloak-sleeve, Konan said, "Pein, didn't you hear Sasori's scream--"

"Oh shut the hell up," he grumbled, still trying to comprehend why the old fart told him this.

* * *

"Hey, Kakuzu-bastard, did you hear that?" Hidan's head quirked up and his stitched partner shrugged, trying to light a fire up with a flint.

"I don't know, and I don't give a flying fuck," was Kakuzu's reply. He ended up burning Hidan's cloak right off.

* * *

"Hmm, Zetsu-sempai! Is that Sasori-san screaming?" asked Tobi, scratching his head.

The plant-nin mimicked his underling and scratched his head.

"Probably. _**Deidara must've left a present for him**_," Zetsu said, a blank look plastered onto his face.

Oh, how right he was.

* * *

"WHAT THE FUCK—"

Sasori stared down at the shivering and traumatized form of Deidara.

"I really don't want to know," the redhead sighed and shook his head. He nudged his partner with his foot. "Move over, I want to get some sleep."

"B-but, y-you don't sleep, un," Deidara managed to stutter out, arms wrapped around his upper body.

"Be as that may, I like to _look _like I'm sleeping," Sasori ground out. "Now move it."

In a lethargic manner, the blond rolled over, his slender legs the only thing in Sasori's way of actually laying down.

He glared at the offending appendages as if they would just blow up, then thought better of it and plopped down.

Oh to hell with it. He was going to be nice to Deidara, even if it killed him.

"…You can sleep here tonight, brat."

With that statement said, Deidara snuggled closer and wrapped his arms around Sasori's body.

"Thanks, Danna," he whispered.

* * *

**A/N: **Funky. Seriously. This is a gay interlude, okay? So, no need to take it seriously. I have an even gayer one, and it'll be a continuation of this one, with more or less detail. Grr. I have a story I want to put up, but I'm not too sure I really _want _to do it. xD Oh, I hope you guys understand me.


	8. Interlude: Everyone Else

**DISCLAIM IT**: I do not OWN. Gosh. Arse.

**A/N**: This is for everyone who wonders about what everyone else thinks of Sasori and Deidara together.

**WARNINGS**: Weird-ness, humor, MM.

**ADDITIONAL A/N**: If anyone notices, I mostly use Sasori's POV. Well, that's because Sasori is much more interesting to me, than Deidara. I know, I know. I should try it in Dei's POV, but I have and it came out _so_boring. Gee.

**OTHER DISCLAIM ITS: **Eh. No cereals were harmed in the production thereof.

* * *

INTERLUDE DEUX: Everyone Else

* * *

"So, Leader-sama," said Kisame, as the whole of Akatsuki (barring the two idiots, Sasori and Deidara), had assembled for their weekly meeting at the Dinner Table, calmly drinking their iced tea and chatting happily amongst each other. They had a Breakfast Table, Lunch Table, Snack Table and Dinner Table, but they all ate their meals at the Dinner Table. No one knew the exact reason why.

"--What?" the ginger-haired man grunted, trying to solve the rubix cube in his grasp. Was it the second line, then the third? Or was it the first line and then the second? Or maybe it was the one in the corner or the--

Kisame's voice broke through his deep and very smart thoughts:

"Well, I was wondering if someone could have a vacat—"

"You finish that sentence and we'll be having sushi tonight," Kakuzu cut-in from around his newspaper, his stitched hand reaching for the mug of coffee to his left.

"But!" Kisame complained, "haven't you seen the lovebirds around?! It's enough to drive an insane man retarded! I mean, they're so _sick_!" The blue-skinned man shuddered, "No, seriously, have you actually_ seen _them?! I swear to God that hearts are floating all around their heads and—"

Hidan, who had dozed off on the table, woke up with a start, his purple eyes blurry and bloodshot. "Huh-whaza? Did someone say God?" he mumbled, spraying drool all over Kakuzu.

The cheapest nin in the whole wide universe punched Hidan without batting an eyelash. "Shut your idiotic mouth," Kakuzu said, wiping his salivated arm all over the Jashinist's sleeve.

"Huhza-wahza?" The man said again, a nice bruise forming on his eye. The pain had apparently fried his brain.

"Goddamn idiot," Kakuzu muttered, backhanding his partner. Hidan flew off his chair and landed in a heap a few feet away, curses leaving his mouth.

"You were saying-?" Kakuzu calmly uttered, giving his undivided attention to Kisame.

Hidan practically sputtered in outrage. It was probably the fact that Kakuzu was so blasé about everything he did. That or it was because Hidan wanted to act like an idiot. Either way, the Jashinist ended up slithering his way back onto his chair and glaring at his very annoyed partner.

"You motherfucking sonofabitch!" he spat, "I was only half-asleep!"

Kakuzu regarded the Jashinist with thinly-veiled contempt.

"Then you shouldn't have opened your mouth, idiot."

"Fucking asshole!"

Kakuzu sneered, "Let me reiterate: baboon."

Hidan almost tore his hair out in anger.

"ARGH!"

Kisame tried not to stare at the squabbling duo and coughed. "I just meant that you should give a va—"

"--Say it, I dare you to," Kakuzu interrupted, from around Hidan's morning noogies. The Jashinist was struggling in the stitched nin's grasp, only managing to smack Kakuzu on the nose with his forefinger. They both ended up on the floor in a tangled heap.

"Uhhh--"

Kisame froze in his seat, taking in the sight of his fellow cohorts rolling on the floor and punching each other.

"Can you just give them a goddamn _vacation_, Kakuzu? And no--" Kisame glared knives when Kakuzu's mouth opened, "Don't give me that stupid excuse of 'we're poor S-Class Missing Nins and can't afford anything except cheap shit'. I know we have a lot of money because I checked the motherfucking bank yesterday."

Hidan, Kakuzu, Itachi, Tobi, Zetsu, Pein, and Konan (who we really wouldn't go into detail with anyway) all stared at Kisame in shock.

That was the longest and _smartest _thing that the shark-nin had said since—well, a_ long _time. And let me be the first to tell you guys:

Kisame plus Smart equaled What the Fuck-?

"I changed my mind, I'll make Itachi cook Shark-fin dumplings today," Kakuzu stated from atop of Hidan, as the blue-skinned man sulked.

So much for giving the not-so-brain-dead Kisame some credit.

"Hey, hey Kisame-san! Did you mean Deidara-sempai and Sasori-sempai?" said Tobi, giggling in his seat. There was a bowl of Cheerios in front of him, and everyone wanted to take a piss in it. Tobi was just _too _cheery in the fucking mornings.

It was evident that everyone else asides from Tobi and Deidara were definitely _not_ morning people.

"…Yeah," Kisame grumbled, arms crossed. "They're so love-sick that it's disgusting. Here, I'll even show you how they act!"

Somehow transforming into a sharky-version of Deidara, Kisame clapped his hands together and cried, "Oh Sasori-no-Danna, un!" His voice was pretty damned accurate to Deidara's deep one, and Kisame dramatically swooned onto the table.

Then, in a split second, Kisame turned into Sasori, plastering a hooded, lazy-expression onto his face. The shark-nin sighed dreamily, pasting a smile onto his face that was akin to how Itachi looked, when he was in the mood for some bloodshed.

"Oh Deidara…"

He transformed again. "No, oh, Sasori-danna…"

Kisame sighed. "No, really, Deidara…"

"Oh Sasori-danna…"

"Oh Deidara--_omph_!"

Itachi smacked his hand onto Kisame's thick head.

"--Ouch! That hurt, you know!" the man exclaimed, clutching the bump on his forehead.

"I wouldn't have done it, if you hadn't made fun of the two," Itachi chided, and went back to doing whatever the hell he was doing (he was actually reading the comic section that he stole from Kakuzu).

"--Hey, don't diss the love!" Hidan shouted, crawling from underneath the table, silver head forming bumps and bruises.He looked definitely worse for wear. If he wasn't wearing the Akatsuki regulated pyjamas, Hidan would've been instantly mistaken as a hobo.

The white-haired man didn't seem to notice.

"You know, Jashin-sama says that love is the greatest of all sins! I'd do it if I could!"

Everyone simultaneously kicked him, then went back to doing what they all did every morning: sleep into their cereal (Zetsu), eat their Pocky (Itachi), play with rubixes (Pein), and blahblahblah. It wasn't that very important.

But the next thing that happened was:

"Hey, Kisame-san, I think I know something you don't know!" Tobi said, feigning innocence through his orange mask. How he did that baffled even Leader-sama, who was the wisest and most powerful person in the whole wide universe.

The resulting thought from Tobi's innocent statement was:

'_Oh God—he actually thinks?!'_

Kisame put his head into his hands and groaned, "What, you little freak?"

"Kisame-san is jealous!" Tobi exclaimed with a high-pitched giggle. He squirted a can of whipped cream into his mouth and promptly choked on it, as Kisame's foot shot out from under the table and kicked him.

"Zetsu-sempai!" the disturbing man giggled once more.

The idiot thought it was his Savior, and thus sprayed the can of whip cream at him.

The plant-nin really didn't give a shit. His only reaction was to shoot his underling a sardonic glare and go back to sleeping on his CoCo Puffs.

"Kisame-san is jealous, Kisame-san is jealous!" Tobi sang. "Kisame is _jealous _because Itachi won't give him any!"

Kisame glared, furiously stabbing at his chocolate waffles.

"…Not."

"Are too!" Tobi squealed.

"No way!"

"Uh huh!"

"So not!"

"So true!"

"Not!"

"True!"

"Not!" Kisame barked out, grabbing the butter knife and throwing it at Tobi.

It hit Tobi square on his face, causing his orange mask to break--

--_right in half._

...The two pieces fell to the floor.

…And was smashed into pieces by Zetsu's vengeful feet.

It was silent for awhile.

Then Pein, who had dropped his rubix cube in favor of gawping at their resident idiot, said, "Err. You guys never saw him. Right?"

The Akatsuki members nodded mutely and echoed, "Err..._Right_."

Itachi spoke up, "But err, what about his--"

Spinning Sharingan eyes glowered malevolently at Itachi, and the Uchiha gave a little 'meep'.

"Err, all right Leader-sama, I didn't see anything."

* * *

"Oh Sasori-danna un," Deidara sighed from across the room, hearts floating in the air around him as he gazed at the redhead in obvious affection.

"…Deidara," Sasori sighed back, hearts floating back and landing on Deidara's flawless cheek.

The blond giggled.

"Oh Sasori-danna…"

"No, Deidara…"

"Oh Sasori--"

"Could you two just_ shut_ the FUCK up?!" Hidan screeched—no, bellowed because men like him never screeched. Tobi screeched but not Hidan. Oh no, not Hidan.

The two ignored him and continued sighing at each other from different corners of the room.

"Oh Deidara…"

"Sasori-Danna…"

"Oh Jashin curse me," the white-haired man groaned.

It took a whole few minutes before Hidan stomped out of the Wreck Room, leveling a glare to the walls that was enough to peel skin off potatoes.

Kisame was right, Hidan decided, eyes narrowed. The two seriously needed a vacation. Or a good fuck or two, the Jashinist reasoned, as he stalked his way to their Leader's room.

_Knock, knock, knock_.

Hidan heard a loud groan and the door burst open, revealing a disheveled man with _no_piercings on his face.

Not even on his ears or neck or—_Jashin forbid_—his wrists.

Hidan stared at Pein's face in shock.

"What. Is. It?" the man ground out, rubbing his Rinnegan eyes.

"Y-you—ehhh…Wahahazahahaha!!" Hidan suddenly burst out laughing, clutching his sides and howling through his fit. Through his broken sentence, Pein could make out these words:

"You look—hahah_," wheeze_, "Like a—ahahahah_—" snort_, "--freak, _hahaha_!"

"…Is there anything else you wanted to say, asides from me being a freak?" Pein stated, jaw grinding in annoyance at his subordinate's not-so-very-nice remarks. He was sensitive about his piercings, or lack thereof.

Hidan only laughed harder.

"Ahahahhahah!"

It went on like that for two whole minutes, before the door slammed on the still laughing Jashinist's face.

Inside his lavish room, Pein grumbled to himself, saying, "Someone's going to have a deduction in their pay."

* * *

"Checkmate."

"You're shitting me."

"No."

"No, really, you're shitting me," Kisame said, scratching his head. "How the hell did you do that?"

"I took your king._** Idiot**_," said Zetsu, sighing. Why he was bored enough to challenge Kisame to Chess was beyond him. Apparently, since Tobi was busy terrorizing some hapless Uchiha (no, not Itachi), he was left alone with no idiot to accompany him through his travels.

And this was where we found him right now: underling-less and definitely bored out of his wits.

Thus, Zetsu had to make do and (unfortunately) steal Kisame away from Itachi for a while. It would only be for a day or two, his right mind told him, while the left was eating him away like guilt.

"Hm, that's weird," Kisame commented, still scratching his head. "I thought the objective was to steal all those small pieces and keep the bigger ones."

Zetsu resisted the urge to stab him and sighed.

"_**Idiot**_."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, I'm still doing that Angst-plot for Side-CH or whatever. It's still in the works, so I thought I'd give you guys this interlude. xD This isn't really a continuation of anything, it's more like an…uh, you know—

_What if_.

You know, _what if_ Deidara and Sasori were in an established pairing already-? That's what I was thinking while typing this, so yeah. It would account for Kisame's annoyance at their lovey-dovey-ness, 'cos we all know that Itachi isn't _that _affectionate, right? Anyway, hoped you liked it (or not, you can always tell me to do something else. xD)

**EXTRA AN: Oh, I might not be updating for a serious while. Graduation is coming up and I have to catch up on some things. So peace out.**


	9. Partisan Lifestyles

**DISCLAIM IT**: I don't own it.

**WARNINGS**: AU/AR, WAFF, CORNYNESS, Seriousness in writing for once, SOME TYPE OF WEIRD PLOT (ZOMG!), OOC, LENGTH, artsy writing, and MM. If this type of old-school writing ain't your style, then…oh well.

**A/N: **With no intarweb for a month, I have been inspired to write a semi-awesome story. You're welcome to flame me for my deepness in it. xD In fact, this was an exercise to test how serious I am in writing so yeah. Whatever.

**SECONDARY DISCLAIM IT**: The personification of Lenore belongs solely to Edgar Allan Poe. Sorry dood, I just had to use her in this story. x-x

**OTHER A/N**: It's a good ending, yey! I may or may not continue this, but who knows? xD Btw, I may or may not add the rest of the Akatsuki characters. I might, but whatever. You'll see. Just read if you can understand the artsy language. O-O

**OTHER OTHER A/N: **Can you tell that this was written over the course of a week? ;D Oh, and other pairings are starred in this chapter, so…yeah. Just know that SasoDei is the main one. Thanks a bunch, readers!

**STARRING: **Deidara, Sasori, Naruto, Sasuke, Hinata, Kiba, Chouji, Ino, Shikamaru, Itachi, Pein, Konan, Neji and Gaara, Tobi, Sakura (urgh) and that's about it. No other Akatsuki members will be mentioned this time around, so thank you, _thank you_!

* * *

…_No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything. Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art…All art is at once surface and symbol…It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors…We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. All art is quite useless._

- Oscar Wilde

* * *

Partisan Lifestyles

* * *

In a fit of madness, the charmingly red-haired man threw his puppet to the ground and laughed a cold, heartless laugh, watching as the porcelain figure shattered at the impact. 'You think me mad?!' he yelled at the broken form. It did not answer so he laughed once more. 'I am not mad! I am but a person with passion enough to startle even the most ardent! You think I would be fit for an asylum but nay! I am not! Just look at me!' He gestured to himself. 'Look at this!' he then gestured around the room whilst turning round and round, as if he were on a carousel.

The room was Victorian Style, with a burning fireplace in the middle of the chamber. Luxurious tapestries hung from the walls, brushing the ends of the lavishly polished floor. The balcony was open, letting the sweet smell of honey and blossoms waft through the air. Bees murmured from the outside and straggling butterflies flew past the open terrace, an array of colour dotting the orange horizon. The beauty of the Greek murals were engraved as if an artist had come here and personally put his soul into each piece, causing a breathless, almost momentary lapse in reality.

It was in the centre of this room that you would find a man of exquisite beauty, his extraordinary attributes, such as his auburn hair, ivory skin, fine pink lips and warm hazel eyes causing one to double-take and want another long look at him. The man seemed as if he was fit to be painted on one of his murals, not lifelike and movable with all the life and poise of a model.

'Heisei,' the man muttered and suddenly stopped, his expression becoming grave and upsetting his faultless features. In a soft voice, he faced the ruined puppet and intoned, 'If you think me mad, then you too, my friend, must be also. It is not meant for us to live the way we do, and _yet I find us doing so_!' he thundered, then calmed and took in a deep breath, 'You know I had to stop us from our lifestyle of utter degradation, of sin and vice—I had to have done it, and I have, though it may cost me more to lose you than you to lose yourself.' Tears spilled down those smooth ivory cheeks, the words clearly paining the man, 'And so I have thrown you to the floor and murdered you with no remorse, like a master abandoning his greatest work. And I will do it again, Heisei, if you live through this. You know I will.'

The man then collapsed onto the wooden floorboards, head bowed and prostrate. His voice, tremulous and moving, spilled through those petal-like lips, confessing his sin, his passion:

'To this, Heisei, I am utterly grateful for: that I had the courage to do what you wouldn't have done to yourself. If I was to be your Gepetto, and you, my Pinocchio, then we would have had to live in constant longing of what you were to be. And for that, I am deeply sorry for, my friend, that you had to live through this farce of a life—this tragedy.'

With a choked sob, the actor collapsed to the floor, unmoving and pale beneath his garment of scarlet and charcoal.

It was hushed for moments, the audience still in awe of the man's wonderful acting skills. Then there was a sudden thundering of applause, which caused the red-haired man to stand up and take a bow, his sensuous lips curving and dimpling to the side.

This made the shouts and yells throughout the theatre all the more deafening, as the unattached women fought to stare at his otherworldly visage. After more proclamations of undying love, Sasori strode off stage, roses and flowers following his wake. The rest of the women all swooned at his candidness and the men applauded further, more for their wives than themselves, for what man did not want to please their wives?

It was offstage that Sasori turned and nodded to his director and manager, Pein, who looked undoubtedly smug, his pretty wife hanging on his arm. 'Wonderful acting,' the ginger-haired director purred. 'It was the best acting you've done so far. In fact….' Pein unexpectedly leaned closer to Sasori and whispered, 'I take it you have found your Lenore?'

Sasori smiled mysteriously, eyes warming at the thought of his love. 'Yes, I have,' he answered serenely, as Pein gestured for Konan to leave the both of them. The pretty woman curtsied and left.

While observing Sasori's glowing face, Pein's eyebrows elevated. 'Then what of her?' he asked. 'Is she a good woman?'

'Did I ever say that my Lenore was a woman?'

Pein reeled back in shock. 'You say that Lenore is a man?' he said, aghast.

'Indeed,' Sasori uttered, a pleasant look crossing his countenance. 'He is my Lenore, my inspiration to fight the insipidness of this lifetime. Do not take him from me, or you will find a very cross actor on the front of your lavish mansion, demanding you to return him at once.'

'I assume that he is as beautiful as you make him seem to be-?'

Sasori again, smiled. His features, without warning, turned wistful and the actor sighed. 'He's as beautiful as the sun and just as blinding,' the man admitted.

Pein elevated his brows yet again. 'I see. That sounds very sweet. Does that mean you will introduce me to your Lenore someday?' the Director questioned. 'I would like to meet her—_him _since he sounds very special to you.'

'Maybe this day, maybe not, but there he is now, by the curtains,' Sasori stated, a faint blush staining his ivory cheeks. 'If you do not mind, Director, I think I'll go and greet him.'

'Go—just go!' Pein waved his hand dismissively. 'I fear that I have kept you away from your wonderful Lenore for too long. Go and let you sweep him off his feet, for he looks certainly terrified of this crowd.'

This statement held absolute truth, as Sasori gazed at him from afar. His Lenore had wrung his long-fingered, clay-stained, artist hands within his dusty shirtsleeves, looking more and more miserable at each passing second. His dirty boots tapped noiselessly to some unnamed rhythm, gaining looks of annoyance from passers-by.

His Lenore was the perfect picture of a lover awaiting his love.

Sasori suddenly grew very anxious.

'I should go to him—'

'That you should,' Pein calmly advised.

'But what if he doesn't want to talk to me?' Sasori babbled on.

'He wouldn't have come if he hadn't.'

'Then what about how I look--'

'As lovely as ever,' said Pein honestly, staring at Sasori in an appreciative manner.

'Pein.' The red-haired actor abruptly whirled on his Director, looking scared, lonely and confused, something that Pein had the chance to see on a daily basis. 'I think that I may hurl,' Sasori confessed, a delicate hand pressed to his mouth.

'Then make sure you don't hurl on him,' Pein voiced smartly. 'I don't think he would like it very much.'

'But then, what about my breath--!'

Pein snagged some mints from his waistcoat, pushed them into that delicate palm, then shoved the hysterical actor to the direction of his Lenore. 'You're fretting for nothing, my dear Sasori. You won't die or faint or embarrass yourself from meeting him!'

'You never said combust, Pein. I surely know I would,' Sasori muttered, staggering to the blond Artist and gracing him with an uneasy smile.

* * *

Deidara had waited weeks for this day; terribly long weeks in his two-roomed, small-sized bachelor cottage by the end of the rocky edges of the southern plains. By the end of the first two weeks, the Artist was a hopeless mess, ruining good pieces of clay and art. He had either blown them up or had thrown them in the river, watching as the brown globs softened and drifted to the bottom of the pebbly underside.

It was nerve-wracking for him—Deidara had never attended a play in the city before, preferably staying out of the hectic labyrinth of sin and confusion, and going to a smaller, less-known theatre.

It was that day, two months ago, that an anxious-looking man invited him. The stranger was too busy staring at the ground for Deidara to get a good look at him, but the Artist did notice the man's hair—_it was lustrous_. There were golden hues that reflected from the red strands, and different shades of coffee and burgundy mixed together to mould into a breathtaking colour that would awe even the worst of critics.

'Would you attend a play in my honour?' the man had asked, shoulders hunching in an effort to remain inconspicuous.

In one of his more raggedy attires, Deidara had felt infinitely poorer, compared to the stranger's elegant garments that were no doubt more expensive than any of his art collectively. He had felt even smaller, staring at the man's delicate, smooth, lilywhite hands as they extended in a handshake. He couldn't help but compare his larger, more calloused ones to those beautifully shaped ones.

And for the life of him, Deidara couldn't help but shake the feeling of being utterly safe with the stranger. Now that was a first.

Suspicious, Deidara glared down at the man. 'I would love to go, un, but first of all, who are you?' he questioned, wiping his dirty hands onto his trousers and taking the smooth, lilywhite hands into his own. He shook it profusely, then shuddered, as the soft appendages squeezed back, seemingly unafraid of the way he had just tarnished their beauty.

The man quickly let go of his hand, quite ready to introduce himself.

'I--_I_ am Akasuna no Sasori, of the Akatsuki Theatre. I would love it if you would attend a play in my honour,' the red-haired man repeated, head still bowed. 'I know that you are Deidara, the Artist with no affiliation to any city or country whatsoever, but I would like it if you did come—_just this once_?' His voice came out into a desperate plea, and Deidara had to stare at the stranger in surprise.

In a sudden flurry of movement, the stranger shifted, and Deidara caught a glimpse of pretty scarlet-stained lips. He vaguely wondered if it was possible to tilt that head up and catch a hold of that crimson mouth, stealing the breath away from those lungs and drawing it up and up and into his own and—

'Deidara-san?'

The blond inwardly chided his abrupt change of thought, forcing himself to answer Sasori's surprising declaration. 'Why should I go, un?' he replied in a rather brusque manner. 'You know, Sasori-san, un, that it may be possible that I don't appreciate your kind of art? There are varieties other than your own, un.'

Sasori's shoulders shrugged. 'Be that as it may,' he began, his tone suddenly tightening, 'my friend has spotted you amongst the townsfolk whenever a smaller play arrives nearby, and I can't help but think you'd appreciate the one in the city also. I know I would.' There was an edgy side glance, and Deidara's brow rose.

'How did you know I attended those, un?' the blond squinted sceptical blue eyes down at him.

Sasori shrugged once more. 'As I said: my friend. So will you?'

Deidara frowned.

'We will see,' he answered tersely, leaving the poor actor all alone in the dusty art shop.

And here Deidara found himself, five weeks later, in one of his more better clothes, ready to go into a city he never bothered going to. Deidara knew he had to look a little less poorer than he usually did, so from his sparse wardrobe, chose his favourite baggy blue trousers, white shirt and red ribbon. When Deidara had left his home, he stared hard at the chipped mirror on his front door, scrutinizing each part of his shabby but pleasant look.

His wheat blond hair, which was combed and shined to perfection, fell to the middle of his back, the sun casting golden highlights in them. His cheeks were pink from his helter-skelter action to get everything done, and his blue eyes were glistening in what seemed like a zeal for life.

Deidara had to admit: he looked good enough to walk in the city without being noticed. _Much_. So much for his taste in clothing, he thought, and glared in distaste at his well-worn garments.

Sighing, the Artist bolted his door, then walked down the idyllic pathway to the city, his boots kicking up travel dust in the cool, autumn air.

* * *

'Hello,' the red-haired man greeted, painting a smile on his wonderful face.

Deidara wanted to gasp—_no swoon_, from the man's utter perfection. From the tips of that lustrous red mane, to the soles of his soft suede boots—_was he the man that had invited him_? Where was the awkward shoulder hunching and nervous wordplay? The small, diminutive aura? Was the stranger from so many weeks ago, just a figment of his lonely imagination? Deidara surely hoped not, because he feared the exquisite apparition would disappear from his very vision.

The actor coughed, 'I'm sorry that I hadn't approached you sooner, but you see, I was terribly busy and--'

The Artist blanched, as the exquisite man babbled on:

'I would've talked to you when I first spotted you, but my Director told me to rehearse my lines and make sure I did everything right by the book and more—and I was terribly busy for the next hour or so. Then something else came up and my fellow actress, Sakura, had killed herself not one hour before the play! She did it out of love for that unsociable Marquis—you do know of Sasuke Uchiha, yes?'

Deidara half-shrugged. 'Un, I've heard of him,' the Artist muttered. The question was: _who didn't_? Sasuke Uchiha, as ivory as the man before him, was a cold, malicious nobleman, intent on living his life like a true hermit. The Marquis's only friend was the blond prince of Konohagakure, Naruto Uzumaki. He was as bright and as sunny as the summer skies; though he was not very well liked in the general populace, Prince Naruto had a way with people that made them befriend him quite easily.

Deidara, without any inflection said, 'I heard that the Uchiha-brat's lover is the Prince, un.'

'Really?' Sasori smiled, causing Deidara's chest to tighten almost immediately, 'Not many people know about that little factor, for the Marquis's family covered it up without delay. Funny how you know that!' Sasori laughed and Deidara tried to laugh with him, 'In any case, Sakura had drunk some kind of poison because of the Uchiha's taste in lovers—I fancy that she used cyanide or white lead, though how she got her hands on it is a mystery in itself. Her mother, distraught with misery, came right up to the doorstep of Marquis Uchiha and screamed herself hoarse, calling him all sorts of names that are fit only for the taverns that sailors and vagabonds frequent. I'm afraid she only got herself thrown into the deepest parts of the Uchiha dungeon.'

'Pity that, un,' Deidara commented, a bored look crossing his face. 'But now that you are actually talking to me, what say you that you show me around this city of yours, un? I was lost the whole time I looked for the theatre,' Deidara smiled ruefully. 'This scene is larger than I actually expected, un.'

Sasori seemed deeply embarrassed at his absentmindedness, but anyway said, 'What did you expect out of a city as fine as this?'

'Un, that it would be rather rundown and unkempt-?' Deidara said; a flush rising to his cheeks. 'I was surprised that the theatre was spotless, clean, and filled to the brim with people. But enough about that, un! Tour me around this grimy city of yours and show me the beauty that you seem to see in it!'

Taking his arm, Sasori led the Artist out and into the back exit of the theatre, his face beaming and as beautiful as the Greek statues that lined the porcelain walls. 'Gladly, Deidara, gladly,' the Actor said.

* * *

'What a delightful couple those two make!' commented Duchess Hinata, squeezing the strong arms around her small waist.

Lord Kiba smiled and glanced at the Artist and the Actor, who shone right above the dirty cobblestone street, like a beacon of light during a storm. 'Yes, they do make a striking figure in the distance,' he observed.

'How troublesome. That Artist seems awfully like the one I've seen Itachi with in the countryside,' examined Shikamaru, a smart expression crossing his visage as the blond Artist threw his head back in laughter.

'Oh do stop it with the jealousy, Shika,' Lady Ino told the tall man, wrinkling her pretty, powdered nose. 'I know that you guard Itachi with your life, but that doesn't mean you have to guard his heart as well!'

'Well who better to do it than I?' the man muttered and played with his silver earring. 'I've seen how he looks at that Artist and sometimes, I can't but feel a twinge of sympathy for whoever gets in the way of those two—'

'Shika!' all three friends scolded and Ino went on to say, 'This is no time for your conspiracy theories!'

'I can't help but be bothered by it, though,' Shikamaru responded. 'It's as if those two are made for each other, like the missing piece to one's puzzle.'

'Then what is so wrong with that?' Lord Chouji, a larger, robust man said, slinging his own arms around his girl and pulling the giggling Ino into his arms. 'If they make such a beautiful couple—and they do—then what's so wrong about that, Shika?'

'That Itachi loves the Artist in his own way,' Shikamaru said, his intelligent features contorting. 'If I had my way with it, I'd tell that Artist to stop playing with Itachi's feelings and--'

'My, what an _ugly_ face you have!' Ino suddenly said, slapping a hand over Shikamaru's observant mouth. 'Remember, Shika that real beauty ends when an intellectual expression begins!'

'Too right,' remarked a voice, smooth and dark like chocolate. The devilishly handsome man that appeared behind them, near the entrance of Akatsuki Theatre, offered a small smirk to the troupe. 'Shikamaru, as much as I like you socializing with your friends, you do have a job to do,' he directed his statement to the long-haired man.

With that rebuke said, Shikamaru instantly slinked to the elder Uchiha's side, pulling on his telltale bored look and tying his hair up into a tight ponytail. 'Right, forgive me, Uchiha-dono. I seem to have forgotten my duties and I deeply apologize.'

A fond glint appeared in Itachi's eerie red eyes and the Uchiha laughed boyishly. 'How many times have I told you to call me Itachi, even around your friends?'

'Three thousand five hundred and fifty-two times since I was hired, Itachi-san.'

'Then please, do drop the suffix.'

'Hai.' Shikamaru blushed. 'Will Neji-san and Gaara-san be accompanying you to-day for tea?'

'No, we're here,' answered a deep and hollow voice. An expensive buggy drove up to the side and parked perfectly, and two well-dressed fellows emerged from the pram. One was a long-haired man, with eyes as opaque as his cousin, Hinata. He was Duke Neji Hyuuga, a man with infinite passion and ambition. His lover, to the right of him, was Sabaku no Gaara. He was the nephew of Akasuna no Sasori, and was definitely related to him, for they shared the same deep red hair and ivory skin. Gaara was Neji's most trusted bodyguard, like Shikamaru was to Itachi, and though their duties differed, the two still retained that dangerous quality that one couldn't quite get rid of, even if one confessed to a priest about their sins.

'Sorry for the delay,' Gaara stated, holding his hand out for Neji to take. The taller man blinked, before smiling ruefully and taking the proffered ivory appendage.

'We were held up,' Neji elucidated, then laughed at everyone's sceptical look. 'All right, all right, we weren't held up, per se, more like catching up--'

'Ugh!' Kiba and Chouji put their hands over their ears. 'Don't say anymore! I don't want to know about your sordid sex-lives!' Kiba moaned, and Chouji nodded with him. They made faces as Neji pretended to say something, then stopped at Itachi's reproachful look.

Gaara, as usual, scowled but said nothing, while Neji gave the two a small, wry smile. 'Well, since no one wants to hear how Gaara and I spent our day, then it's time for us to go, so shall we?' He signaled for Shikamaru, Itachi and Gaara to get inside the buggy, then he inclined his aristocratic head to his cousin and her fiancé, then to everyone else.

'Good day, Duchess Hinata, Lords Kiba, Chouji, Lady Ino. It was nice meeting you to-day.' Neji, in his customary brusque and clipped behaviour, gestured good-bye, then turned and entered the buggy with the rest of his upper-class, no-nonsense society friends. The pram made a soft purring noise as the ignition was turned on, and Shikamaru, from the inside, waved to his friends from the window seat.

As the buggy became a black speck among the smog-filled sky, Kiba turned to Hinata, and incredulously said, 'I can't believe you're related to that stuck-up prick.'

Hinata smiled gently at the shaggy-haired man, 'He's just like that because you haven't proven yourself yet, Kiba. In time, I know he'll learn to accept you. Neji-niisan is very tender when you get to know him.'

'And when will that be? When I'm fifty with a beer gullet and gray hair?' Kiba grumbled, but allowed himself to be placated by a soft kiss.

Ino fanned herself and rolled her eyes at the loving couple. In an attempt to fill the silence, she exclaimed, 'Hmph, that Gaara, always so sour and taciturn!' She was clearly not thinking of what would come out of her mouth, 'What does your cousin see in him, anyway? All I see is his scowls and his cat-like eyes! I know for sure that he _used _to be a Prince of Sunagakure, but left the country in the hands of his siblings! What kind of person runs away from their duties as Prince, just for a lover? I don't understand how Neji can see anything in him!'

Hinata, done pacifying her fiancé, pursed her lips at her impulsive friend. 'He sees a lot in Gaara-san, Ino,' she chided, 'I know for a surety that he sees a soul mate in him. The two have a lot in common and it's no wonder they got together. Every day, at the Manor, I see the two just quietly holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes for hours,' her voice lowered so it floated gently into Ino's ears, 'And sometimes, Ino, it makes me so _jealous_!' Hinata's laughter was that of a tinkling bell, 'I know you don't believe me Ino, but Neji-niisan and Gaara-san would follow each other to the ends of the earth. They _love each other_,' Hinata emphasized, smiling warmly up at Kiba, who smiled in return.

Ino could only snort, saying nothing else as Kiba and Hinata bid them good-bye. Tenderly guiding her down the street, Chouji let Ino use him as a clutch. As they were walking, the blond woman asked, 'What good do you see in me, Chouji?' Ino looked sad, her small hands wringing into the back of her white fur coat.

The generously proportioned man gave her an affectionate squeeze. 'I see a lot of good in you, Ino. Believe me when I say that even if you were the most evil of all evils—_I'd still love you_.'

Feeling infinitely better with herself, Ino let Chouji carry her back home. Where they belonged. Together.

* * *

'Sasuke, you bastard! Come out here right now, I demand it! You left me hanging at the Training Grounds and you know how I hate that! Where are you, so I can wrap my hands around your neck and wring you alive! Where are you, you bastard?!' yelled an angry blond-haired man, his startling sapphire eyes darting around the forest area. It was on the outskirts of the Uchiha lands, just shy of entering the Konohagakure border. The area itself was beautiful, with lush green plants, numerous fauna and wild animals. The majority of the Uchiha males hunted in this very forest, and sometimes not for animals but for the people who trespassed and wandered inside.

Naruto being a regular sight, was instantly ignored by the Uchiha males in the forest. They even learned how to ignore the stomping Prince in favour of continuing their chase. It was either get used to Naruto's presence or be driven insane by him: it was obvious that the males chose the former.

'_SASUKE_!' shouted the Prince, a pretty booted foot stamping the earth. 'You better come out right this moment, or else I'll torch this place to the ground! You know I can, with Kyuubi's help!'

A dark figure, dressed in ANBU clothing, nudged the taller body besides him. Sasuke's only reaction was to grunt, though he was inwardly grinding his jaw in annoyance.

'Tobi thinks you should go talk to him,' the ANBU said unnecessarily.

Sasuke resisted the urge to bash his head against the tree bark. 'It doesn't look like I have much of a choice, do I?' he questioned dryly. Tobi shrugged and watched as his cousin jumped down from the trees and before the fuming Prince. Madara took that as his cue to leave the two alone, and thus, disappeared in a flurry of leaves.

'Why the hell did you leave me like that?!' growled the blond, hands fisted to his robed sides. He was wearing his ceremonial garb, since to-day was the first day of the month of Harvest. Naruto, regardless of his fancy attire, continued on, 'You know I don't like to be left hanging like that, Sasuke! And I was _nearly _at that point! I was _so close! _ _You bastard_!' Naruto suddenly swung his fist at the cool-headed man, instinctively knowing that Sasuke would catch it with ease. The Uchiha smoothed the tanned fingers out and played with them, caressing each appendage with affection.

'I did not mean to leave you,' Sasuke said, twining his body with Naruto's, hearing the muffled gasp of breath leave those pretty parted lips. 'I had no choice, Naruto,' he nuzzled that beautifully tanned neck and breathed in the unique scent of mint and incense. In a low voice, Sasuke crooned, 'I absolutely regret my actions earlier, but I had to: the inquest for Sakura's death was to-day, and I had completely forgotten about it.'

'Sakura?'

'You know, that pink-haired wench that would never leave me be?'

Naruto, letting out a shuddering breath, said in an accusing tone, 'Then why didn't you say anything?'

'Because I was already late and I knew you would make me even more so,' Sasuke stated, trailing his lips down Naruto's jaw. He kissed that delectable chin and nibbled on Naruto's bottom lip, smiling as Naruto's azure eyes closed. 'Forgive me?' he asked. 'I meant no harm and you know how I feel for you.'

'Perhaps,' Naruto answered, eyes slowly cracking open. He gave Sasuke a hooded stare that caused the dark-haired man's toes to curl. 'If you do something for me, I may think about forgiving you, bastard.'

Sasuke's lips twitched. 'I couldn't have it any other way,' he said, and hoisted the blond into his arms. Fingers performing a teleportation jutsu, Sasuke whisked his lover away and into his flat in the Uchiha Manor, Naruto grinning broadly all the while.

In all honesty, Naruto was never really mad at Sasuke—he just wanted the Uchiha all to himself for the rest of the day. Who said that Princes could be selfless and noble? Naruto certainly felt the opposite of that!

In mere moments, the blond Prince was thrown onto a wide expanse of an onyx covered bed. It was soft and just the way the Prince liked it—it smelled utterly of Sasuke. The blond couldn't help but giggle at this thought: his Sasuke smelled like sweet cigars and blossoms. If the arrogant Uchiha knew that, Naruto was sure that he'd never live it down.

Prowling over to him, Sasuke covered the length of Naruto's body with his toned one, purring sweet nothings into Naruto's ear.

...Naruto loved manipulating Sasuke sometimes.

* * *

'Gaara, why does that Ino woman seem to hate you so much?' Neji questioned, hand on his chin as they were sitting on an expensive dining room table. The red-haired man grunted, giving his lover a hooded look until those long-fringed lashes touched his ivory cheekbones. Still, Neji watched Gaara, patiently waiting for an answer. Dealing with Gaara was like stringing a violin—one had to pull it _just right_ in order to have the correct tautness. Of course, Neji learned to deal with this particular fault, as Gaara learned to deal with his. It was only right.

At last, Gaara's lips turned and he said, 'She suspects me of murdering her friend.'

'That Sakura Haruno actress?'

'Mhm,' Gaara hummed, head tilted to the side. He seemed serene and at peace with himself, despite all the horrors of his past. It seemed fake. 'It was earlier in the day, when you left me at the theatre for the morning. She cornered me and accused me of killing her friend'

'No wonder you had that hand mark on your face,' Neji muttered. 'Do you want me to do something about her? Tell her parents? The press? The whole society—'

'No,' Gaara cut-in, voice angry. 'She was only acting that way because her friend died. I would've too, if Naruto or you had died.'

'But why would she even bother to suspect you?' Neji gently grasped Gaara's chin, tilting that attractive face up to observe as it twisted pensively. He smiled encouragingly at Gaara, opaque eyes curving and crinkling at the corners. 'You know that you don't have to hide anything from me, Gaara. I'll protect you,' Neji told him, pouring all his love out into that sentence, willing Gaara to acknowledge that, no—_believe _that he did.

Gaara let out a shaky breath and bit his lip. 'It was because I supplied her with the cyanide,' the ex-Prince mumbled. 'I only did what I was asked.'

'And will you tell me why?'

'She asked for it three months ago,' the redhead confessed, beautiful green eyes downcast. 'She begged me for it, said that she wouldn't think of using it. She only wanted to have it, just as a reminder to what would happen to her if she failed at gaining the Uchiha's heart. It was an incentive for love, I think,' Gaara said. 'Do you hate me?' he turned those darkened eyes at Neji, who could only bring Gaara close to his body and hold him.

'You silly, boy,' Neji whispered, hugging that small and fragile form to his own. 'It wasn't your fault and you know it.'

'But I helped her,' Gaara disagreed.

'No you did not!' Neji said firmly, gazing at Gaara's features with a fierce determination to believe in Gaara's goodness. 'She did it all on her own! She would've gotten the poison from another person, one way or another, so do not pin the blame entirely on yourself!'

'But I helped her,' Gaara echoed, his darkened green eyes now a blank sea green.

'No, Gaara, you didn't,' Neji said, holding his naïve lover closer to his body. 'I know this for a fact, because I was at the inquest to-day, and Sakura's mode of death was white lead, not cyanide. So no, you stupid boy, you didn't.'

This earned Neji a surprised gasp, and bolting straight away from his arms, Gaara breathlessly said, 'So I—it wasn't cyanide?'

'No, no it wasn't,' Neji answered, biting back a small laugh as Gaara willingly returned to his side. Red hair splayed everywhere on his white suit, and Gaara stared up at Neji with a small, serene smile. It was different from the one earlier and suited the ex-Prince more, for it was a genuine turn of the lips, and not that fake, horrid little thing that Neji saw.

Winding his arms around Neji's shoulders, Gaara heaved a relieved sigh. 'Sometimes Neji, I wonder what I'd do without you,' he murmured softly, tiptoeing to press a chaste kiss on Neji's forehead. 'Even if I don't entirely understand you, I still can't help but love you.'

Neji's lips curved and he tightened his hold on Gaara's thin waist.

In the quiet dining chambers of the Hyuuga Manor, Neji's announcement sung softly through the air, caressing Gaara's ears like some expensive wine. It caused the ex-Prince to; if possible, fall even more in love with the Duke than ever.

'And I to you, Gaara. And I to you.'

* * *

'You still up?' Shikamaru asked, dark brown hair down and tangled around his shoulders. His mane was entirely different than that of his Boss's—Itachi's hair was silky and downright gorgeous, whereas his own was just soft and smooth. 'Shouldn't you be taking your midday siesta?' he asked again, when there was no response.

Footsteps padded across the room.

'I couldn't sleep,' Itachi simply replied.

Allowing himself to sidle next to Shikamaru, Itachi cradled his chin within his palms and sighed.

Shikamaru glanced at him sideways.

'Do you want to talk about it?' he gently prodded.

Itachi shrugged. 'There was just something on my mind,' he confessed, pulling his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

Shikamaru suddenly got the impression that Itachi really didn't want him to know something. 'You know what—you don't need to tell me anything if you don't want to,' he said, lips pursing. 'I just wanted to let you know that—'

'No, no, it's nothing like that!' Itachi interrupted. 'I just…well, I couldn't get someone's words out of my mind.'

Immediately did Shikamaru's body stiffen, his mind instantaneously coming up with a solid, well-founded conclusion. 'You were there, weren't you?' the bodyguard whispered. 'You heard every word I said at the theatre.'

'And every bit of jealousy that went along with it,' Itachi admitted.

'Then what of it? Do you hate me now?'

'No, on the contrary,' Itachi shrugged, 'I was surprised that you remembered Deidara.'

'And why shouldn't I?' muttered the Genius crossly. 'You spent every waking moment with him last winter.'

Itachi chuckled, 'That's because I commissioned something from him—'

Shikamaru narrowed his brown eyes and spat, 'But did that mean you _had _to stay with him for _three_ _whole days_?'

This time, Itachi did laugh. 'I know that it was unnecessary from your point of view, but it absolutely necessary for mine. If you only knew what I asked of him—oh you'd be so ashamed of yourself now!' Itachi continued laughing.

'What-?' Shikamaru said, taken aback.

'For a genius,' Itachi began, stuffing a pale hand into his mouth to muffle his laughter, 'you are pretty thick.'

'And what do you mean by that?' Shikamaru's jaw twitched.

'Just what I meant!' Itachi said, still laughing, 'It's that you're too busy looking for deeper things to see what's right in front of you!'

'And what would that be?' Hands curled to his sides, Shikamaru was ready to lose his only job and beat the life out of his Boss. He'd do this, just this once.

'Oh, that I'm in love with you, you idiotic half-wit.' Itachi's grin was lopsided, 'I only commissioned Deidara to sculpt a statue of you.'

'You mean that heavy case you had me carry for you?' Shikamaru questioned, recalling the large, glass case.

'The one and only, I'm afraid,' Itachi stated. 'In fact, it's the very one that's behind the curtain in my room, the one that I never let you open.'

'Damn it all.' With a loud groan, Shikamaru collapsed onto the ledge of the balcony, head lolled onto the smooth marble. His brown eyes meeting red ones, Shikamaru asked, 'I'm a complete idiot, aren't I?'

The graceful man shrugged.

'Possibly,' he answered.

'I knew it,' Shikamaru grumbled.

Fingers gently running through Shikamaru's hair, Itachi's ivory appendages smoothed the snarls and tangles out. In a quiet sort of voice, he said, 'If this is quite possible, and I no doubt think this is: I believe that our flaws make us better for each other, that it makes us less dull—don't you think so, Shikamaru?'

Something tapped his cheek.

'Tcch,' the Bodyguard muttered sluggishly, 'you already know what I think.'

'And that would be-?'

An elegant brow arched.

'How troublesome,' was Shikamaru's usual reply.

* * *

'So are you saying it's impossible to be morbid as an artist, un?' Deidara asked, sitting on a sunny patch of leaves and staring up at the Actor with a look akin to the one that Sasori first saw him with.

The redhead's lips quirked. 'Quite, I'm afraid,' answered the Actor. 'Artists can never truly be morbid, for they all express their art through thought and language. It seems all so beautiful, putting yourself into your art and becoming the very notion of art itself!' He collapsed down next to the Artist and graced him with a blinding smile.

'I never told you that I was glad that you came to-day, have I?' Sasori said, after a few minutes of blissful silence.

Deidara let out a short peal of laughter. 'I'm quite sure you haven't, no,' Deidara responded, rising to his elbows. He pulled his red ribbon off and let his crisp blond hair fall in waves around his face. With a wink the blond said, 'Though I may have said sometime earlier, that I'm glad you invited me, un.'

'Really now?' Sasori played along, his sensuous lips curving even more. 'I know that you said something on the lines of that, but more like, '_Sasori you perfect bastard, you! Come back and give me my ice-cream to-day, un! You promised!' _And why do you say 'un' at the end of your sentences anyway?' Sasori questioned, elbows smoothing onto Deidara's ribs. Inquisitive hazel eyes regarded the Artist, and Deidara's eyebrows elevated.

'I do, un?' he questioned back.

'Yes, you just did it now.'

'Oh, must be a speech impediment, un. I never really noticed that before,' Deidara answered truthfully. 'Is it annoying?'

Sasori shook his head. 'No actually, it's quite the opposite.'

'Truly, un?'

'Yes, it's endearing in its own annoying way.'

'But you just said it wasn't annoying, un!'

'Well then, I suppose I'd have to take that comment back, seeing as though the impediment sometimes makes it harder to understand you.' Sasori's head lolled onto Deidara's stomach, 'Just know that it's endearing,' he said listlessly.

'You are a truly cruel person, Sasori!' The Artist cried in a mock hurt voice. He shook the redhead off him and with a deep and playful growl, pounced and straddled the exquisite creature that had haunted his dreams for weeks. Face close enough to smell the delightful scent of apples on Sasori's breath, Deidara allowed his eyes to trace the contours of Sasori's perfectly sculpted features. He hoped his breath was as sweet as Sasori's, for the two had earlier stolen two apples from a nearby stall, luckily gaining no notice from the keeper or its customers. They had taken their bounties back to this quiet part of the park and had eaten them, amidst laughter and giggles of how ignorant society sometimes was.

'Anything you have to say, un?' he said, once his head was back in reality.

Sasori, for the first time Deidara had met him, let out a large grin. 'No, not really no, but I do have something I want to do,' the Actor told the Artist, and the Artist's eyebrow once again elevated.

'Do tell?' Deidara prodded, still atop the actor and quite comfortable laying there.

'Hm, I'm not sure you're courageous enough to let me do it,' Sasori admitted. 'It is, after all, quite the task and it is definitely something that most people would shy away from. Even I would, but…with you here, it would probably be more special anyway.'

'What is it, then, un?'

Sasori cast him a sly look. 'Oh, it's something that should involve your full cooperation.'

Definitely even more curious than before, Deidara stared at Sasori eye-to-eye. Pale blue clashing with warm hazel, Deidara demanded, 'Tell me, un, for it can't be all that bad!'

'Oh but it is,' Sasori said sadly. 'It's all very bad. Quite naughty to be truthful.'

'But-!'

'But don't worry about it,' Sasori soothed, allowing the blond to sag his heavier body over his smaller one. 'It's only an experiment.'

'Un?' Deidara perked up.

'With the heart.'

'Un…' Deidara wilted.

'I'm sure that you won't mind being my partner for it, do you?' Sasori said at last, after gaining a puzzled look from the blond Artist.

'No--?' Deidara said, and was instantly surprised when Sasori pressed a lingering kiss onto his lips. The Actor drew back, his smile even more dazzling than the sun shining in the sky.

'I'm glad then,' Sasori said, cupping Deidara's jaw with delicate hands. 'I wouldn't have to chase you down and make you my partner. You must know how much work that takes! And for a person like me!' Sasori wrinkled his nose.

'Right, for a person like you, un,' Deidara answered wryly. 'I'm sure that it'd take too much effort for you to drive to the countryside and serenade me outside my home. In fact, it'd only take half the day and a quarter of a dozen roses to do the trick!'

'Hmm, that doesn't sound all too bad. The countryside would be beautiful under the starlit night, and the smell of roses would be pleasant then. But they'd probably wither by the time I get to your cottage, though I'm sure I would just drive there without them,' Sasori smiled, and once again kissed the Artist soundly.

'But what about my fantasy, un? The roses are a good idea to lull me out of my home!'

'Then you know what?' Sasori chuckled.

Deidara twisted in Sasori's arms and blinked up at him. 'No, un, what?' he asked.

'It's time that I be frank with you: despite your wonderful hope and my obvious languor, I would probably make an exception and drive _all _the way with flowers.'

'For you,' he told the Artist affectionately, 'and only for you.'

_**THE END**_

* * *

**A/N: **Whew! Do you _know _how many pages of artsy literature crap this took? Yeah, that's right, A LOT. Like _21plus_ pages! Goddamn this! But you know what--? I think this is the best piece of crap that I've done in ages! Thank you, lack of intarweb and Lenore! _THANK YOU!_


	10. Understanding Sasori

**DISCLAIM IT: **I can't own. I want to, but you see, I'm sure Masashi Kishimoto wouldn't like the fact that I would put the hot Naruto-men in an orgy…together…without women. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.

**A/N: **This chapter deserves capitals. Why? Because I said so. You'll understand as soon as you read it, I guess.

**WARNINGS: General, Progressive POV, MM.**

* * *

UNDERSTANDING SASORI

* * *

When Deidara first sees Sasori, he can't help but scoff at the old, hunched-back man. He could understand why Sasori, puppet-extraordinaire was undefeated—it must've been his looks. If he were Sasori's enemy, he'd run for the hills and scream like a little girl. Sasori was so terrible looking that Deidara had to squint every time he faced the puppeteer.

And to be honest, nothing bothered the blond as much as looks. To him, the person had to be beautiful or at the very least _charming_ for him to appreciate them. This is why one day, on their second mission, he tells the puppeteer his opinion of art.

"Art un, is made to be fleeting, haunting in its simplicity, like a discreet glance from a person from afar," he said, sweat dripping down his forehead and collarbone. They were near Sunagakure and Sasori had yet to sweat buckets like Deidara. The blond was slightly envious.

The puppeteer surprisingly laughed, but said nothing.

Deidara didn't understand.

When Deidara finally found a way to defeat the Sharingan, he couldn't do the operation on himself, so he asks. The first person he asks is Hidan, because Hidan isn't too bad. He's just too religious. The occultist is a little annoying sometimes, but Deidara is okay with that. He's annoying too, so annoying plus annoying couldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

With a derisive snort, the Jashinist turns him down.

The next person he asks is Kisame. The shark-like man could only scratch his head and say, "Do you really trust me with a scalpel?" The small, diminutive man next to him chuckles, and Deidara directs a glare in the direction of the pretty Uchiha.

But Deidara understands, so he doesn't ask him again.

So with all the weight upon his shoulders, Deidara slinks his way to Kakuzu, who is busy overlooking the bills and whatnot. Scarred hands hold numerous papers inked in flawless penmanship and Deidara hesitates to ask.

Eventually, after long and deliberating minutes, Deidara opens his mouth but is quickly cut off by a gruff voice:

"No."

Well that left one person.

Sasori.

He knows that he couldn't very well ask Zetsu. The man, although very nice in his own insane way, would probably eat him. His idiotic underling, Tobi, is a little too dumb to understand the mechanics of his delicate operation, so he's out. Leader-sama is obviously out and his partner, whoever they were, is too.

So that left Sasori.

Resigned, the blond crosses his fingers as he walks back to the room he shares with Sasori. He hopes for luck and a lot of other crap, but inwardly knows that the ugly puppeteer would either ignore him or be mean and say no.

A little part of Deidara, however, feels that his partner would say yes.

He finds the hunched man standing in the middle of the room, his back open—yes, his back. Silver blue eyes popping out of his head, Deidara rushes to the empty shell and gasps, jumping back as a small, attractive man pops out of his partner.

Red strands fall into bored brown eyes, and a beautiful head cranes to regard Deidara in the same way that Sasori does.

Deidara freezes, realizing that he's somewhat familiar with that condescending stare.

"S-Sasori-san, un?" he stutters.

The pretty man frowns.

"I thought you'd be gone for the rest of the week," Sasori states, seemingly unaware of how that answer affects Deidara.

The blond gapes.

Sasori rolls his eyes, steps up to him, then with a soft forefinger, snaps Deidara's mouth shut. "Don't let it loll like that," he admonishes to his younger partner, "and you shouldn't be surprised. I _am _a puppeteer."

"B-but, un, that doesn't explain anything!" Deidara somehow slaps himself out of his stupor and glares at the man—no _boy_, because Sasori looks so young. How could someone like him be in such an organization like Akatsuki? He had to have at least been here for however old he looks now so—

Something clicks in Deidara's prodigy of a mind and he blinks.

"You made yourself into a puppet?" he asks, disbelievingly. When he feels strong emotion, his speech impediment fades away into nothing.

A fine eyebrow arches, and Sasori seems faintly pleased at this revelation. "So you noticed that, yes? Well brat, I'll have to give you more credit than the others."

"Thanks un," Deidara mutters, wrinkling his nose. "But I really didn't care to know. I just wanted to ask if you could perform an operation on me—"

"No, brat, I won't do it," Sasori interrupts, ushering the blond to be seated on a chair besides them. He then sits by Deidara and places his chin into his hands, looking utterly thoughtful as Deidara's face contorts.

"And why not, un?" he asks.

"Because I'll be tempted."

"To what?" Deidara tilts his head to side, somehow managing to look sweet and endearing.

Sasori, smiling eerily, simply gazes at Deidara before saying:

"To turn you into a puppet."

It takes a few weeks until Deidara asks him again.

* * *

The second time Deidara asks Sasori, the puppeteer casts him a derisive glare, as if saying, "Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?"

This makes Deidara waver, but before he can say anything, the attractive man, now in Hiruko, leaves him at the riverside, the clay he was holding onto, dropping to the ground in thick glops. What a waste.

Deidara wants to scream.

* * *

The last time Deidara asks Sasori, the puppeteer is scanning a newspaper leaflet, somehow interested in the day-to-day life of an ordinary every-day, non-ninja civilian. Deidara sorely wants to ask, but refrains himself, because that would waste his question.

He only gets one answered every day, after all.

"Could you _please_ help me, un?" Deidara asks desperately, nearly at his wits end. He has to defeat Itachi. He has to. There's nothing left in his life other than revenge, revenge, blow up things and revenge. Not much of an agenda, but it was good enough for an S-Class Missing Nin that was in the Bingo Book.

To his surprise, his taciturn partner sighs and folds the newspaper into a neat pile near his mug of milk.

Deidara never asks about the milk.

"I will, on one condition," says Sasori firmly.

"And that is--?"

"That you allow me to teach you how to use it," Sasori finishes, and sips his milk. He quietly regards Deidara with darkened eyes and says, "You may think that I don't know what this contraption is, but I do know. I designed it."

Deidara sputters, "Y-you designed it?! But it was over twenty years ago, and you can't be more than fifteen—"

"I'm forty-one, brat," Sasori tells him, a somewhat amused twinkle in his pretty brown orbs. "I don't age normally. In fact, I don't age at all."

"Well I can tell that, un!" Deidara huffs, scanning his partner's flawless features. "You make me want to turn into a puppet, but then again, that would defeat the purpose of true art, so I can't have that," he says.

With that statement uttered, Sasori snorts in a sceptical manner. "True art?" he scoffs, crossing his arms. "You don't know the true meaning of art. It is eternal, everlasting, something that leaves a legacy. Your definition of true art, is _certainly _not the one I'm referring to."

"It is too, un!" Deidara quickly protests, "Art should go out in a bang! Not stay in one place and grow old! It _should _be fleeting and it _should _be admired for the split second that it lasts!"

He watches as Sasori's jaw clenches.

"Are we going to do your operation or what?" the man questions gruffly, quickly changing the subject.

Deidara wants to laugh but can't, knowing that Sasori would most likely maim him. His partner isn't too patient when it comes to certain things.

"Sure, Danna, un," he says, jokingly adding the suffix. Sasori's nose scrunches and this time, Deidara does laugh.

And even as he lies on a cot in Sasori's workshop, fifteen minutes later, Deidara can't help the smugness that rises and engulfs him; the icy tendrils burning through his veins like some sweet aphrodisiac. He narrows his eyes as he sees the unmoving silhouette of Sasori against the doorway.

"Are you going to do it, Danna, un?" he questions, squirming on the hard cot a bit.

Without a word, Sasori steps through the darkened room and prepares his tools. He grabs a needle filled with light poison and injects it through the vein on Deidara's left arm. The blond recoils at the feeling of cold steel in his arm, but gradually relaxes, the poison working through his chakra system like a virus.

Drifting off into a light doze, the last thing that Deidara hears is:

"_Danna, huh? That doesn't sound too bad of a name to call me. I guess I'll only let you call me that._"

And Deidara finally understands.

They were both the same.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you understood it. I sure as hell know that I did. Xd If you're having trouble understanding it, just know that in the beginning, Deidara doesn't get Sasori. His hobbies, his body, his everything—Deidara just considers him as much of a nuisance as Sasori considers him. Of course, as he learns to cope with Sasori, he slowly begins to realize that maybe, just **_**maybe **_**the redhead isn't so bad. That even if he's a bastard sometimes, that he could be nice too. That if you wear him down, he'd eventually concede. They were the same in that aspect, that stubbornness to stay alive and believe in what they believe in.**

**Yeah, total bullshit but whatever. I thought it was good. O-o**


	11. Patterns

**DISCLAIM IT ALL**: I don't own. Screw you fate.

**SECONDARY DISCLAIM IT**: I don't own Play-doh and co. Damn.

**A/N: Okay. I hope you like this one. And, well, whatever man. Double update because I love you guys. O-o I don't look at reviews, I look at the hit list, LOL. Get it, hit list? xD Anyway, I got tired of writing semi-angsty shit, and I wrote this well over a month ago so…yeah. Now you CAN'T say that I'm not a benevolent authoress. I gift you guys with extra chapters for being good to me, lol. ;D  
**

**Warnings**: Writing equals total crap, randomness, language, other, MM.

**EXTRA A/N: **I did it! I did your plot Side-CH. The one with the…yeah. Clay. But it won't end up that way, harhar.

**FINAL WARNING: No ducks were harmed in the making of this fic…Not really, at least.**

* * *

Patterns

* * *

"So, what did you say these were again?" Sasori said, trying in vain to mold the green goo in his hands.

"Play-doh, un!" Deidara cheered, already surrounded by a legion of pink cats, blue spiders, and brown dogs.

"…………"

Sasori was _so_ not jealous.

Eyeing the steadily growing army from the corner of his eyes, Sasori grumbled to himself, very much tempted to crush the clay beings. He himself only had one cat and two chickens, and they were so deformed that the redhead considered them blobs of goop rather than animals.

Animals? Pfft. Ugly deformed beings? Yeah. Definitely.

He inwardly scolded himself for sounding whiny.

_Focus Sasori, focus! _

Narrowing his russet eyes, Sasori concentrated on his task, even though he knew that he would, without a doubt, fuck the hell up.

Fifteen minutes and a lot of cursing later, Sasori was about to blow up in frustration.

If this was a contest to see who could make the most play-doh figures in a day—well, it was a cheap shot, Sasori thought, mentally crossing his arms and pouting.

_Everyone_ (meaning the other Akatsuki members) knew that clay was not his forte. Hell, it wasn't even near his form of art at all! It was fleeting, short-lived and most of all—his mind supplied—

_So Deidara_.

Urgh.

Sasori made a face and crumpled the poorly-shaped elephant in his grasp.

_Hah!_ _Take that you stupid piece of crap_!

The redhead viciously pounded all the green goop in his hands and balled it, throwing it onto the floor in a rather irritated huff.

Point Twenty-thousand for the ever-patient Deidara.

"Danna, un?" Deidara tipped his head to the side, wide blue eye staring at Sasori in a mixture of amusement and confusion. "Are you all right?"

"No," Sasori bit out, not sounding sulky at all. Sulky was for kids. Broody was for adults. So broody was the way to go!

Deidara's stare turned skeptical.

"…I can see that, un."

Deidara, putting the bird he was making near the containers, stood up, then ambled to the frustrated redhead.

"Sasori-no-Danna," the blond said, in a very serious voice.

"--What?"

"Here." With gentle hands, his partner grabbed Sasori's clumsy appendages and proceeded to help him mold a body. It slowly became a cat that soon had four whiskers on each side of its face. From there, it grew into a mischievous smile and a paw near its mouth.

The shaping suddenly stopped.

"Un, it looks just like a kitty!" Deidara declared, grinning. He squeezed Sasori's hands as he proudly surveyed the maneki-no-neko. "You did a good job this time because you were serious, Danna!"

With that statement said, Sasori wrenched his hands away from the blond and would've blushed if he had the blood to.

"Yeah," he muttered, shifting on the floor uncomfortably. "Just needed to be serious…yeah…something like that…"

"Want me to help you some more, Danna?" Deidara offered, and dimpled cutely, making Sasori want to do '_not-so-appropriate_' things to his partner.

To his horror, his words became a jumbled mess as he uttered them in a small voice that said, "_I'dlikethatbutnothankyoubecauseI'djumpyou._"

But even in spite of that answer, Deidara beamed, causing Inner Sasori to go into cardiac arrest.

_Hedidnotlikehispartnerhedidnotlikehispartner--_

Deidara's beam brightened up a notch—

Inner Sasori died of blood loss.

It was official.

_He liked his partner._

He mentally bashed his head against the proverbial wall of despair.

* * *

"And they were so like this, Danna! And then that!" The blond flapped his arms around and hopped. "They were so freaky looking that I blew them up, un!"

"I…see," said Sasori flatly.

They were blessedly out of their stuffy chambers and walking around the foggy area of Amegakure. Sadly enough for the puppeteer, he was forced to listen to his idiot (and very cute) partner talk and gesticulate wildly.

But…

His traitorous mind was turning for the worst: it kept imagining Deidara duck taped, handcuffed, and in a lewd position that involved weights and--

--Sasori would _so _not go there. Nope, his Inner Mind did not go to the proverbial Deidara gutter. No sirree bob. It was just not possible.

To make everything easier on you, Sasori simply did _not _want to be here. With his retarded libido and the bulge underneath his robes—well, it was a pretty hard feat to walk and think of pure thoughts at the same time. You know, with the hard-on and a lot of other things—oh, and the hard-on was just another thing on his mind. Because puppets usually didn't get hard-ons. It was—you know, sort of impossible—physically impossible to be exact.

An obnoxious voice broke through his confusing whirlwind of thoughts:

"--And they went _zoop! _And I was like, wow and blew them up, ha-ha."

Deidara, oblivious to Sasori's growing ire, rambled on.

"So then I was like, killing the ducks, un, because they were so annoying with their quacks that I couldn't help but kill them some more. Then they went rabid on me and tried to eat me with their duckbills and it was scary so I ran away, but they chased me around the clearing for half an hour before I remembered that I could blow them up, and _then _I got my revenge and chased _them _and blew _them _up! It was so fun, un!"

This continued on, for five minutes, until Sasori snapped and said, "Don't you have to breathe once in awhile, Deidara? Because you've been going on and on about ducks for the past two hours."

The sad look he received made Inner Sasori die a little inside.

They walked on in silence, Deidara shuffling his feet on the forest ground, and Sasori treading lightly.

Eventually, the guilt ate Sasori up and spat him back out for the end result.

"Look," Sasori began, in a guilty sort of voice that one associated with criminals on death row. "I'm sorry."

Deidara's lips curved but he refrained to say anything.

After more silence and a circuit around their Base One, Sasori couldn't take it anymore. "Okay, Deidara. What the hell can I do to make it up to you?"

Deidara instantly perked up, a devilish look crossing his face as he surveyed his redheaded partner.

"Hm, un! I can think of a few ways," the blond said, and that was then, that Sasori really feared for his life.

* * *

Deidara clapped his hands three times.

"SERVANT!"

Sasori ground his teeth and forced himself to not jump the blond (no, not that way) and tear him from limb to limb. The mental image gave Sasori enough energy to muster a half-assed smile.

"What, _Master?_"

"With feeling, Danna, un!" Deidara chided, hands on his hips.

They were standing in the kitchen, with some of the Akatsuki members surrounding them. Kakuzu and Hidan were laughing their asses off, actually going so far as to hold each other up so they could stand upright. There was also Tobi, who looked confused but tried to laugh the situation up too.

Then there was Leader-sama.

The ginger haired man's eyebrow had ticked, and was still ticking, even after fifteen minutes. The chopsticks in his hands had crunched repeatedly, as if they were about to be broken, but were still somehow kept in tact by his steely (or was it waning-?) self-control.

Deidara had derived an odd sense of pleasure from Pein's irritation.

Nearly snarling at the absurdity of it all, Sasori ground out, "_Do you require anything_,_ Master_-?_"_

Word for word was spat out and into Deidara's face, and Deidara could only wipe the spittle with his cloak sleeve, watching as Sasori's features twisted into an aggravated visage.

"Why yes, _Danna_," Deidara practically purred, leaning over the table to regard Sasori through twinkling blue eyes. "There_ is_ something that I require you to do."

There was a dramatic pause and everyone held their breaths for the next move.

"…And it's—" Deidara took in a very deep breath, steeling himself for his imminent doom, "--to wear this-!"

The blond had somehow managed to whip out a lacy black maid's dress, complete with thigh-high stockings, chunky heels and a cute little lacy hat that needed to be tied around your head in order to stay on. The whole dress and apron had cost Deidara a pretty penny, and he was sorely tempted to return it to the store he had gotten it from (though he knew better than to do that). The heels and everything else he had, was stolen from Konan—the bluenette would never suspect him anyway. She'd just think it was Leader-sama and his cross-dressing tendencies.

Deidara sniggered silently to himself; patiently awaiting his Danna's reaction—and _boy _was it some reaction!

Sasori had turned ashen, then pink, then a mixture of purple, red and blue.

Then the redhead exploded in a nasty display of fireworks:

"_AIEEEEEEEEE_!"

And all Hell broke loose in the form of one angry puppeteer and one thoroughly amused arsonist.

"DAMNIT, DEIDARA!"

Sasori was frothing at the mouth. He imagined wringing his hands around Deidara's pretty little neck and snapping it in two.

"Get back here, you stupid brat! I swear to Jashin I won't hurt you—okay, maybe I will, just a little—wait no, scratch that, once I get my hands on you, _I'll kill you_! And kill you slowly! SO GET BACK OVER HERE, DEIDARA! IF YOU COME OVER NOW, I SWEAR IT WON'T HURT MUCH!"

The blond only laughed harder and continued evading his Danna's grasp.

"You wish, Danna, you wish!"

This caused all the wires in Sasori's brain to expire, and the only thing left for him to do was to pounce.

So he did.

Deidara screeched.

"_AIEEEEEEEEE_!"

Meanwhile, back at the kitchen, Hidan scratched his head in an uncharacteristic epiphany and said, "You know what, Kakuzu, Leader-sama, Lunch-box-bento-san?"

"What-?"

The two men simultaneously grunted and drop-kicked the bento box to the side.

(This Bento-box-kicking was a regular occurrence, so it wasn't that freaky if you think about it.)

Hidan scratched his jaw. "I seriously think that Sasori would've looked good in that dress."

And there was silence.

Silence.

More silence--

Then,

"…What did you say?"

Spinning Rinnegan eyes gazed at the Jashinist in vague annoyance.

"…Did I hear what I thought I heard?" Turbulent green eyes also pinned him into place.

Hidan ignored the warning signals and said, "I just meant that Sasori would've definitely looked sexy in that maid outfit and--"

He was cut off by a kick to the shins and a blow to the stomach.

:-:-:-:

**A/N: So. I got tired of the semi-angst. Is that all right with you guys? I make a mean angst chapter, but you know what, it gets boring writing about tears and whatnot. I prefer making the Akatsuki members quirky. I mean, they're all human/ninjas, right? They can afford a few laughs and beers. **

_THAT'S RIGHT! CHUG IT DOWN ITACHI!_

**Anyway, thanks for your support, doods. I'm watching that Hit Counter! xD**


	12. Finesse

**DISCLAIM IT:** You think that after stating this in my other stories,that it'd change? Then yes I own the version of Naruto in which Deidara and Sasori don't die, and Sakura's in the mental rehab getting her pinkhead fixed.

**A/N**: Sorry, this was a one-shot challenge to myself, to work under thirty minutes or less. :3

**Pairing**: SasoriDeidara

**Warning**: First POV, and MM.

**SECOND A/N AND WARNING**: This was actually in my other story: _His Mystery_. It was originally a TobiDeidara but...I got bored halfway and decided to take it off and put it here, in my oneshot collection thingy. I hope you guys don't shoot me for it, lol.

**LAST WARNING**: I REPEAT. THIS IS NOT A TOBIDEI. THIS IS A SASODEI. Geez. I just meant that I nicked this interlude off from my other story. --;;

* * *

Finesse

* * *

The art of killing is sometimes a difficult concept to grasp.

You can kill an enemy while allowing them feeling pain, or you can kill them swiftly, leaving them to die without the pain. Most of the time I find myself hard pressed to do the latter, but I can't afford to be cruel.

Most of the time.

You see, there's just this one person in the entire world that's got my own perception of worldly art down to a nutshell. And that's my partner, Deidara.

You know, blond haired, blue eyed, annoying-as-hell bombshell?

Yeah, sound familiar yet?

…No? Well, how about I describe him some more.

He's, like I said earlier, annoying as hell. He's so arrogant that it pisses me off whenever he opens his big mouth. I'd cut him in half if I had the chance, but I really wouldn't want to: having one Deidara is enough, but two? Someone just kill me.

Anyway, he's like, this tall. Imagine a tree with sticks and a smaller tree with arms besides it--yeah, that's it. He's a little bit taller than me.

Okay, really taller than me. Shut up.

He also has two mouths on his palms. Palmouths or something, or so he tells me, whenever he has the time after battle. I think they're disgusting, because—well, I think he does perverted things with them. Like—

Nevermind. Don't want to think about it. The mental imagery is enough to make me hurl, if I had the stomach to do so. Or an esophagus for that matter, or a pancre—

Ahem.

But I digress. Pervert though he is.

Uh-hum...let's see…Where was I? Oh, right, _Deidara_.

Deidara has this tendency to prattle on and on about his art. There is nothing more annoying in the world, than listening to a blond boy talk about his psychotic pastime of blowing people and things up.

Then again, I shouldn't be talking; I made myself into a walking and talking puppet, for crying out loud.

...Right, so enough about me, and more about the idiot. The blond buffoon has this spiffy scope on his one eye—says it'll help him against Itachi's genjutsu, but I don't really think it'll help defeat that bastard Uchiha. He's a megalomaniac that one, thinking he's so high and mighty. Well mister blind-bat, I'd like to see you say that when you trip over a rock. Then we'll see who's laughing.

Cough.

Anyway, Deidara's adamant about it though.

Oh well, his funeral and my party.

...So, does he sound familiar yet?

Yes? No? Well, I hope he is now, because he's whining next to me, wondering when we'll be done with our current C-Class Mission.

Yes, you heard it, a _C-CLASS_ mission. It's a simple retrieval. We both have to get this old daimyo's dog from the nearby veterinarian or something.

And let me say this:

As an S-Class missing nin and one of the most notorious in the Bingo Book, this is just one, _big_ and pathetic mission. I don't even consider it a mission. It's more like an insult. I speculate that it's Leader-sama's revenge, for coloring his hair pink and painting his nails blue. He lopped my right arm clean off, and _man_, did it take me forever to get it back to working shape. That, and it hurt like a _major _bitch. Guess that means that I should stick low and try not to prank the rest of the Akatsuki members, huh?

...Hm? What? You're confused now? You want me to elucidate? Okay, fine, whatever, if it'll get you idiots off my back.

With my whole body made out of wood, one would think I wouldn't be able to feel, right?

Wrong, because I sure as hell can feel. You just have to poke me hard enough. Or maybe even try and smite me into pieces. Shit, that happened once because of Kisame, and it _hurt_.

…What? You expected me not to feel? I mean, seriously, why would I go through all the trouble of extracting my own nerves? Wouldn't that mean that I'd have to extract my brain as well?

Tch. Still don't understand?

I knew you people don't think at all. So, let me spell it out for you:

The brain is connected to the nerves; hereby making it one damnably long process to try and scrape out of one's self. Trust me, I've done it to other people, what—only a thousand times?

Oh, and if you're wondering about…the _other part._ Well, I can't chop off my own manhood for Jashin's sake! That's just wrong. I'd be castrating myself in the process of eternalizing my ideal form of art!

...Ugh, just stop it.

"Sasori-no-Danna!" whines the brat next to me, stomping his foot like a six-year old on melon-flavored Ramune.

"What?" I snap, turning on him and growling. Good thing I'm in Hiruko, and I've never shown him my face yet. Otherwise, he'd be buggering me about my youth, and my being a kid and stuff. God knows he already has enough ammunition about me being ugly, bald, fat and hunched-back and stuff.

No need to give him anymore to yabber about.

"Are we _there _yet, un?!" he pouts, and I'm tempted to roll my eyes, but I can't.

I forgot to oil Hiruko's eyes before we left, that's why.

"Almost," I grunt, and try in vain to ignore him.

He sulks. "This is the first mission I have with you, so why are you so mean to me, un?" he asks, pouting even more.

I twitch inside Hiruko. "Listen kid," I begin patiently. "It's because I'm older than you and because I can. No need to get so worked up over it."

"Bah!" he shouts, and throws his hands up in the air. "The first time I saw you, I thought you'd be nicer! _For an ugly man, that is, un_!" he adds under his breath.

"Whatever, brat." I ignore his angry mumbling, and walk in front of him. "I will always cherish the initial misconception I had about you," I state, even as he starts to sulk again.

"Hmph!" he sniffs.

But he can't keep quiet; I've been living in the same room with him for two months, and I know he can't. Fidgety bastard.

So predictably, in the first few minutes of my blissful silence, Deidara just has to interrupt it and sound like a broken record. He goes like this for nearly half the trip:

"Talk to me, danna!"

"Stop ignoring me, danna!"

"I'm going to blow you up, danna!"

"Hey, un! Are you even listening to me, danna?!"

"Dan-_na_--!" Deidara girlishy shrieks, a few meters behind me. I hear a rustle of ninja, and I can't help but sigh.

I think that's my cue to start saving him from evil bunnies or rocks or something. Guess I can't talk to you now, huh?

After all, I've got my idiot partner to save.

* * *

**A/N**: Aight. So...Yeah. That's it. I only double update because I'm cheating this time. I wrote this a LOOONG time ago (a few months ago, give or take-?) Anyway, enjoy the two chapters. Much love, kisses, whatever. :D


	13. The Chronicles of a Puppet thereof ONE

**DISCLAIM IT**: Forever and ever. I don't own.

**A/N**: I was reading something I had to absolutely do it. I'm serious. :D

**WARNINGS**: OOC, bad writing, pervy-people alert, AU/AR, humour, OROCHIMARU-ness, excessive use of the word "FUCK" and of course, MM. What kind of yaoi-loving author would I be without it? ;3

**SECONDARY A/N: **There will be a next chapter to this. I know there will be. By the by, Deidara won't show up in this chapter, because it'll continue in the next one. And that'll be the last part of this chronicle. Mwhahah.

**Severe and much-appreciated EDIT: **Thanks to Suzy, who pointed out an error. :D I've made sure to correct it today 04.16.08, so...Thank you. Hidan's arrival at Akatsuki is here, and if you're wondering why Itachi is there before Sasori, just imagine he got initiated at 14, 15, okay? Damnit. I took too many liberties with this two-shot. XD Oh, and I know..erm, Sasori was initiated into Akatsuki 11 years before Itachi, but damnit! This is my story so I can screw everything up if I want. ;;

**On another note: Okay. I know Hidan is actually very new in the Akatsuki, maybe before or after Deidara was initiated, but here, he's not, okay? Okay. Because I'm getting pissed off at my own discrepancies that I might take this down. xDDD**

* * *

The Chronicles of a Puppet thereof : P A R T U N E

* * *

I don't like it here.

You might be thinking that I sound ungrateful, but I'm not: I'm actually the opposite of that. It's not like I didn't have anywhere else to go—_I do_. I could've gone back to Suna, but that would've defeated the purpose of leaving that desert-hell-hole and making my Chiyo-baa cry like a little sand baby. I mean, yeah, sure it was about five years ago, but they'd still have enough room for a puppet-boy, ammiright? Probably not. I did, after all, crush my baa-san's heart to little miniature pieces.

Okay, so I sort of enjoyed inflicting pain on old people, but is that so bad? They deserved it, for being so old and ugly. And did I forget to mention that most people at my Chiyo-baa's age had liver marks? I know. Totally gross.

…Anyway.

Like I said, I don't like it here. I mean, yeah, it's pretty and scenic for a lair of evil bad-doers, but _c'mon_. They could do _so _much better.

Just who the hell thought of adding crystal chandeliers in every eating room? Don't they know how expensive those light bulbs cost?? I know that it'd probably cost more than the puppets that I'm currently carrying--

Okay, well, they're pretty priceless (seeing that they're actually human turned puppets) but that's not the point!

The point is--

Well, all right. I don't really have a point. All I have to say is that I'm surrounded by freaks.

No, seriously.

People even freakier than me.

If you think that being a butt-ugly puppet (courtesy of Hiruko) is bad, then think about the freak with a Venus-fly trap for shoulder pads! Do they need to be watered everyday so they don't wilt? Does he use hair-gel for it to stand up so straight like that? Are they even attached to his body?? Do they go straight down like a vine and end up at his—

…Okay, so not going there.

Right, so like I was saying, the company was bad enough to make me seriously rethink my immortal status. So what if I stayed everlastingly beautiful and marble—if that meant spending eternity with these freaks, then I might as well cut my own head off and be done with it.

…I know.

It isn't fair of me to judge those bastards so quickly. For all I know, they could be the nicest, ugliest people out there, but still retain that evil bad-guy aura that never really comes off, even with a good hot-tub and steam bath.

Heck, I should know, I've tried to scrub it off one too many times.

But alas, I shall endeavour to give these idiots the benefit of the doubt, even if a creepy snake man put his cold hands down my shirt.

"To get the temperature right," he said, golden-snakey eyes glinting. His slimy tongue swirls around his lips in a disgusting circuit and I had to force my eyes away from the creepy sight.

Like hell do I believe that, but they are my soon-to-be comrades, so I don't see the problem with getting chummy with each other.

I just don't understand why everyone has to put a hand down my pants.

* * *

Bad news.

I know, it's too early to be saying that, but I just have to. I really do. Anyway, they're all mad. And I don't necessarily mean mad as in cool mad or nice mad but mad mad.

As in sex-crazed mad.

I can see it in their beady little eyes, whenever they peek at me through their hands. They think I don't notice but I do! Even their talks about, "Oh, Sasori-kun has such a sad life, never knowing his mother or father, poor child. Come, sit over on my lap and tell us the rest of your life. Let's give him a hug and watch him turn five shades of red, sweet thing he is. Not his fault. It's probably a genetic disorder inherited from his mother or something."

I wasn't even aware that my mother could be some mutant freak!

Okay, whatever. I'm done with this shit. But now do you understand what I put up with?! I bet they can see through Hiruko and see my real self and--I'm going to stop now. I might start stabbing this pretty puppet that I'm working on, and she might turn out all ugly and scarry like Kakuzu.

So yeah. Now you know, Diary.

I have to tolerate S-Class Missing Nins that have the mentality of seven year olds.

And that's just putting it nicely.

If I had my way with things, I'd be calling a med-nin over here and have him evaluate their minds and whatnot.

Sigh though.

Tonight, I have to sleep in the same room with the evil-pervy-snake man again. I tend to sleep on a couch in the Family Room, but Leader-sama caught me two nights ago and told me to sleep in my own room.

Okay, so he more or less threatened me, but that's…erm, his regular way of talking. I've learned to deal with that and not burst out sobbing whenever he approaches me.

But... I _really _just don't want to sleep in the same room with that perverted snake.

When I woke up the first morning, the pervert was in the same bed as me, snuggling up to my body. I had to literally pry him off with a wrench (good thing I bring those wherever I go) and watch him pout for the rest of day.

I really don't want to know what he did with my body that night. I can't feel a thing because I'm a puppet so…

Ugh, I don't want to think about it.

Now though, I've taken a habit of carrying an armload of poison and sharpened paraphernalia to bed. To protect myself and my virtue, you see.

I hate it here.

* * *

I really, _really _hate it here.

We have a newbie.

And he's not a_ blond _but a _platinum_ blond. So blond, that he's like, you know, silver-haired. He's so loud, and annoying, and he pisses me off constantly. If it weren't for Kakuzu always beating the shit out of him, I would've gladly done bodily harm to that annoying wannabe blond. Preferably with a serrated spoon.

And to add salt to injury--_the bastard's immortal_. So that meant I couldn't kill him per say. I could only hurt him so bad that he'd wish that he was really six feet under.

But you know what pisses me off even more-? Here it is Diary, I'm going to tell you. I can't keep it in, or else I'm going to go to that bastard's room and beat the fuck out of him:

Hidan didn't even have to go through that mind-numbing process of gouging his own nerves out and placing puppet-jutsu in. He totally defies my art and my reason and everything I stand for and, and--

_I hate him_.

IhatehimIhatehimIhatehim!

I know journal. I sound so...grade school, but c'mon. Whereas Hidan prayed overnight to some stupid god for immortality, _I _had to take a few months to work on my perfected and glorious body.

I hate him so much that it's almost comparable to the one that I reserve for that perverted snake.

This seriously bites.

I wish that a crack would appear in the middle of the room, letting my gorgeous and perfect body fall into its deep and unfathomable depths.

I'm contemplating suicide, but then again, I don't think I can hang from the ceiling and say 'hello' to the next person who comes in. I don't die normally, so a noose or a razor blade isn't at all helpful at a dramatic time like this. A razor would only tear the beautiful skin that I worked so hard to make. It'd leave marks on me and I hate marks of any sort. And nooses--well, they're not at all helpful because then I'd have to try and find the highest place to hang from. And if you ask me, that's waaaay too much work. I don't even think I can reach the top of a ladder without fainting.

So really, this cuts my plans for suiciding and dying beautifully.

I hate it here.

* * *

Ugh. Seven years later and there's more people. And you know what? The Base is getting cramped because of that damned Uchiha being so girly and hauling half of his fucking wardrobe here. I hadn't even known you could have so many shirts of the same colour!

...All right. That's enough with the bitching and more about the truth.

Okay, so I totally hate my partner. You know, the pretty, paedophilic bastard named Orochimaru? Well, want to know why?

Well, of course you do; I know you do. Everyone wants to know.

So, anyway, everyone was sitting around the Family Room, doing nothing but staring boredly at the TV screen. The TV was actually shut off, because Kakuzu (stitched man with a tendency to be as cheap as the sunscreen he provided us) complained that electricity was way too expensive.

Riiiiight.

That was total bullshit. In all actuality, our paycheck amounted to seven digits or more, depending on the type of missions we were assigned. The money just… you know…sorta dwindled down because of all the repairs we were forced to do…

The busted door and the medical bill to Kisame's broken nose was _so _not my fault.

Ahem. Moving along now…

So, at any rate, we were just sitting. And you know, doing the usual: listening to Hidan piss, moan and whinge like the religious bastard he was.

And then, Orochimaru just has to say the most idiotic thing ever:

"Has anyone actually seen Sasori out of his puppet?"

Of course, given that rather baffling question, everyone barring Leader-sama (he was ineffable and knew everything) pondered upon this particular issue.

Itachi, whilst scratching his chin, said: "No, I've never seen him out."

Insert awkward cough and suspicious eyeshift.

"…Doesn't it get musty in there?" Kisame then piped-up, lounging on the other sofa, his sharky head in Itachi's lap.

"No," I growled out. Idiot. I air-sprayed Hiruko every day.

"Then why don't you come out?" Kakuzu said, around his hold on Hidan's neck. He was preventing the Jashinist from breathing, but that was okay. The dumb oaf wouldn't die. He was immortal after all.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that the religious cult bastard was well—a religious cult bastard, Hidan didn't quite like his slow asphyxiation. The drama queen thus threw a bitch fit that rivalled Orochimaru's, when the Snake Sannin ran out of purple eyeshadow:

"Goddamnit!" _wheeze _"Get your fucking ugly hands off me, you ugly—_" Kick kick "--_fucker!" _Struggle punch struggle _"--_F_uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

"Oh just shut the fuck up, idiot." Kakuzu, already exasperated with Hidan's antics, quickly knocked him out with a swift punch to the head.

Everyone was rather used to them beating the crap out of each other (actually, just Kakuzu beating the living shit out of Hidan), so readily ignored the sight of a half-dead housemate. I just tuned them out.

…Okay, so I tuned a lot of people out, but can you blame me? Half of my comrades were either insane (Zetsu, Kakuzu, Itachi, Orochimaru, Leader-sama) or just plain retarded (Kisame, Hidan, Tobi).

"Soooooooooo," Orochimaru said, a little smugly. "I've seen him out."

This got everyone's interest piqued, so they all craned their heads (Leader-sama really didn't give a shit) and listened attentively. I wondered faintly if it was 'pick on the Sasori' day. They should've given me a head's up, so I had enough time to flee.

"..So?" Zetsu eventually said. "_**What about how he looks like? Is he ugly? Deformed, what**_?"

I was so going to piss in his bed tonight.

"Hmmmmm!" Orochimaru said, batting his long lashes coyly. "Do you mean to think that he's scrumptious? Good-looking? Edible enough to eat? As hot as hot potatoes and just as warming?" His smile was as sickly sweet as the rest of him.

Orochimaru then giggled and that caused most of the other Akatsuki members to turn green.

That was--just...really disturbing. I had no words to describe how disturbing it is, to witness a grown man giggling like that. I was so tempted to fling the remote at his face and barf at the same time. And you know what-?--Everyone apparently agreed with me.

Ultimately sighing, Orochimaru pouted.

"Isn't anyone going to take a guess?" he asked.

"………"

Everyone glared and Orochimaru put his hands up in defeat. I wanted to giggle at this point, but thought it was totally unnecessary, so stayed silent.

The Sannin wrinkled his pretty nose.

"Fine, fine. If you insist. Ickle Sasori is really just a boy under all that ugly baggage," Orochimaru stated, huffing. "You guys have no sense of humour whatsoever."

"Like you have any, you _paedophilic bastard_," Hidan muttered, cradling his abused head. "We all know your tastes run from ages four to whatever age that's not dead."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Orochimaru's pretty lips thinned.

"That you're a paedophile with a taste for necrophilia?" Hidan sneered.

"Ohhh, lemmie at'em, lemmie at'em!" Orochimaru suddenly launched himself at the yelping Jashinist. He then began throttling Hidan with his nicely manicured hands. The Sannin had gotten it done when he dragged me off to Amegakure yesterday.

…Mine are done in a dark red.

…What?! What?! I couldn't help it!! He said it brought out my hair and made me prettier...

Cough.

…Okay, fine. I'm not going to justify that statement. Just know that Orochimaru is such a girly-girl and that today was total suckage. Everyone actually pressured Leader-sama to pop open Hiruko and show me off.

And eventually, the sadistic bastard did. What a mother fucking pushover.

I was displayed shamelessly in front of everyone, like a mannequin at those clothing stores.

And then--

Then everyone fell to the floor in nosebleeds. That gave me enough time to escape and not come back until it was midnight.

And if you're wondering how I'm writing in the dark--_I'm not_. I'm using my trusty mini-flashlight under my blankets. Orochimaru wears this eyemask, and he snores really loudly, so it doesn't matter if I'm loud or turn on the lights.

But, anyway, do you know what I realized then, while I was running away from a lusty Uchiha and a prancing Tobi?

Why yes. You took the words right out of my mouth, Diary--

That I was surrounded by complete and total perverts.

Now that's a depressing thought.

But doesn't it always-?

* * *

It's been a few years now. You'd think I'd have written in you more often, but I just haven't found the time. You see, Orochimaru keeps me busy and--

Wait, wait, not in THAT way, okay? NEVER. Eww. Gross. You perverts.

Anyway, Orochimaru is always taking up the most retarded missions. He's mental, I tell you. He'd never give me any rest, just does this weird hip jutting thing and snaps his fingers, like I was his genie or something.

…Like hell I'd be a belly dancer!

…Ahem, okay, whatever.

Our last mission was to dress up like _women_ (yes, you heard me right!) and escort these group of Nobles to Iwagakure. It was depressing, because first of all, I couldn't bring Hiruko (who was of course, my security blanket). When I couldn't wear him, I was all bitchy and mean and just plain nasty.

And when I mean bitchy, I mean like bitchy-bitchy. As in Konan bitchy when it was her time of the month bitchy.

Does anyone _know _how hard it is to dodge a fucking paper plane and drink milk at the same time!? That's right. It's fucking difficult.

So the perverted—I mean, _kind _and _gentle _noblemen chatted us up and even offered their bedrolls to us. You know, you'd think that spending a few years with Orochimaru would make me immune to these type of advances, but _noooo_. It still pisses me the fuck off.

The mission never said I couldn't slap the head nobleman.

The rest of the journey was all right and everyone kept their extra body parts and hands to themselves. They even paid me extra because I disciplined the naughty head nobleman!

…Okay, that sorta came out wrong, but don't take it negatively. I swear to Jashin that I never touched any one of those nobles. Who knows what kind of diseases I'd get?

Although, I personally think that Orochimaru enjoyed the whole cross-dressing experience. We even talked about it.

"Oh, I liked the dancing part the best!" he gushed, beaming with his pretty obsidian eyes.

I grimaced, but managed to tell him that I hated every minute of every day we spent with the fuckers. And that was two and a half fucking months. I don't know how I even survived and still turned out sane.

He offered me the next non-cross-dressing mission that Leader-sama gave.

* * *

Okay.

This just gets weirder and weirder.

I woke up today, with a kiss to the cheek and a post-it note stuck onto my forehead. Apparently, Orochimaru had left Akatsuki.

His reason on the note was:

_Itachi and I had a recent falling out and I just can't work with him anymore_. _I'm sorry to leave you hanging, Sasori-love, but I have to go. Ciao and much kisses, mwah!_

The literal meaning was:

_Fuck. That's it, Sasori. I give up. I just can't get into Itachi's pantaloons and it frustrates the fuck out of me. I can't be sexually frustrated and work at the same time, you see. That's just not right. Especially when you share my room at night and I can't even touch you without getting bloody diarrhoea or something. So sorry to leave so soon, but you know how these type of things work, don't you, dear? Well anyway, taa-taa! Have fun, or whatever the fuck you puppets do in your spare time! Just know that I hate your guts and that I'll eventually get my hands down your pants, so don't let your guard down, babe. Peace. _

Pfft. What the fuck ever. The only thing I was worried about was Orochimaru's masculinity. Because he had such girly handwriting—you know, with the waves, the curls—the whole works. He even dotted his 'I's' with a smiley face. Creepy.

You may think I was really depressed but, the truth of the matter was that his departure made me blissfully happy. For about half an hour.

Then, come breakfast time, I had to put up with Leader-sama's bitching, Itachi's constant avoidance, and everyone else's whinging. I even threw a fork at Hidan's right eye. Then I regretted it, you see, because the idiot started whinging about how much blood there was on the floor, and how it wasn't right to spear fellow comrades with eating utensils.

I threw another fork at him.

* * *

Diary, diary! Oh, this is great news!

And yes, _finally_! Some good news. This whole diary's just filled with dreadfully bad ones.

Okay, so here it is, my hand's shaking too much to make sense, but I hope I can read this later for future reference:

_I'm getting a new partner_.

Yes, you heard it.

And the best part is: he's blond.

Squeal! I know!

I love blonds.

Leader-sama's bringing him around next week, and this just makes me extremely anxious to meet him. Leader-sama has a thing for bringing in men—_boys_—whatever term was more comfortable with the cross-dressing freak. Like I said a few entries ago:

Everyone's a pervert.

But don't count me in. I'm not. I'm completely serious.

But--_but..._

Hm...

I wonder if my new partner wears boxers or briefs? Orochimaru wore pink, frilly panties.

Don't ask.

But honestly, I hope he goes commando.

Well, at any rate, Leader-sama told me that his name is Deidara, but I'd rather call him '_The Blond Mystery_' for now. It makes him sound much more alluring and mysterious.

I hope he's as sexy as I imagine.

* * *

**A/N: ANNNnnnnnd. The next chapter Deidara is introduced and blahdebladeblahblah. I couldn't help but play around with the characters here. I know there's not much detail, but I can't help it: it's too much fun to make the Akatsuki like that. Like my other chapters, I won't delve too far into Konan and whatever. Give me your thoughts or whatever! :D I enjoy reading what you tell me.**

**If you can tell, I like Orochimaru. I don't understand why people bash him so. : He deserves more love, even though he's a paedophilic bastard. Orochimaru forever! xD  
**


	14. The Chronicles of a Puppet thereof TWO

**DISCLAIM IT**: Hahahaha--_no_. I'll never own.

**A/N**: I got such positive feedback that I had to continue it. Lol. I thought everyone would hate the idea (and my writing style there, I was severely redundant -- ) so…yeah. Thanks for the support, lurverpies!

**WARNINGS**: Orochimaru-ness, Deidara-ness, AU/AR (due to my fucking idiot mind), wry humour, pervyness, language, severe OOC (on Sasori's part), diary-POV, progressive-POV at the end, and MM. You'll know that you're reaching the end when I use progressive-POV.

**SECOND A/N: There's hopefully less AU/AR-ness here. I'm serious. And I'm sorry for skewing everyone's perception of when and how. It's just too much fun to write like this. ee I may or may not take the two down…but, I guess that just depends if you guys like it-? Idk, srsly.**

**CHAPTER IS UP THANKS TO: My parents. Who came back from their two-week vacation at Hong Kong. Even in spite of the fact that they didn't bring me along, I'm happy that they brought souvenirs. ;D**

* * *

The Chronicles of a Puppet Thereof: P A R T D E U X

* * *

I've just received a purple letter with floral print and girly handwriting on it. I'm betting my entire month's pay that it's from Orochimaru. I haven't opened it yet, for fear of getting Oro-cooties, but…I'll have to do it eventually. I can't resist such a temptation, you see.

_Annnnd-_--

Wow. That was magic: the floral letter just appeared in my hands and was somehow cut open by the pair of scissors lying next to me. I really don't have the faintest clue how that happened (actually, I do, but I find it much more amusing to lie to myself in my own diary).

So…

This is weird.

The ugly purple letter has 'cute' (what is that word for, anyway?) characters on the bottom half of the stationary, and there's onyx-gold embossed at the edges. I wonder how much it cost Orochimaru to make this--? It probably costs three times as much as regular papyrus. Maybe five.

Anyway.

Did I ever mention that Orochimaru has _the _most girliest script ever? Even my Chiyo-baa can't compare. Even _my _handwriting can't compare. And though I hate to admit this: my handwriting is pretty girly. I know I must've written this complaint at an earlier entry, but I really can't be bothered. I'm too busy scanning this letter and rolling my eyes at it, and maybe doing a little more.

Here's what Orochimaru is basically saying, omitting everything stupid and everything retarded. Okay, that's more than half the letter, but who's counting?

_Dear Sasori-chi,_

_How are you holding up, dear? I know that we haven't parted with the best words, but I sincerely hope that you accept this apology. I was angry and fuming and—well, _you know_ sexually frustrated. I hope it hasn't gotten in the way of our friendship. I don't want it to turn out into one of those horrid soap operas that Itachi watches every morning—oh, please don't tell him that I know. He'd probably throw a bitch fit and hunt me down. You know how good he is with his eyes._

_Anyway, I've been doing fine if you're wondering._

At this point, I'd like to butt in and tell you that I was never _wondering_ about Orochimaru's welfare. I don't know how he got any idea that I adored him and his pretty self, but…whatever. He's just a megalomaniac that one. And I don't know how he got my post box address either. Stalker.

Right so…Moving along…

…_I've been doing some skulking around _(yeah, probably scoping for a new victim) _and I've found a delightful specimen by the name of Uchiha Sasuke! _(Oh Jashin-sama, strike me down in your infinite mercy and spare me from this whole escapade: Orochimaru has found a new victim—and another Uchiha no less.)

_He's only twelve_ (I'm beginning to cry right now…I really am) _and he's so cute! He's always brooding about and glaring at everything and dissing this totally cute blond, Naruto. Did you know that he's a Jinchuuriki? I know! Don't stop squealing for my sake! He's a totally grand catch because he's a __**blond **__AND a Jinchuuriki! What are the odds? _

_In all honesty, I wanted to get him too, but then I realized that I'd have no ammunition or blackmail to get Sasuke! Because you know teenagers these days—they _always_ have to have some sort of incentive to go somewhere with powerful people like me. You know, like promise them power, or steal one of their potential lovers or blahblahblah. Whatever. You get the gist of it, right?_

_Mhmkay._

_So at any rate, Sasori, I've heard from my informant _(Kakuzu, you sleazy bastard) _that you're getting a new _blond _partner. I hope he's as pretty as me _(I think I'm going to hurl) _so you won't have any trouble sleeping. You always did like the pretty ones. And I'm not just talking about your piercing fetish with Leader-sama_. (Wait—how did he know?) _That's all I have to say for now, so taa-taa, Sasori-poopie-pie! Livin'lavidaloca! Au revior! Much love, and kisses! Chuuu--!_

_Love and lots of hearts and candies,_

**O R O C H I M A R U **

_**P.S. **__Have you found that little present I left in the back of your drawers? It's your favourite pair of underpants. The one with the adorable leopard print. The one from Gucci-no-Tala? Yeah. It was pretty expensive so I hope you take good care of it. You never know if you'll need it._

I think I'm going to start screaming and never stop.

* * *

I am currently indulging in my favourite pastime:

Pin the dart on the Orochimaru picture! I somehow got my hands on a (why couldn't it be a badly drawn one?) picture of Orochimaru and have begun to play darts on it.

I know.

I shouldn't be doing this, but I swear to Jashin, that bastard's going down. Hidan found the pair of leopard panties in my drawers and told everyone about it. Even Leader-sama is eyeing me speculatively.

Have an artist draw you a picture, it'll last you longer, you freaks.

Anyway, I'm slightly confused and slightly annoyed at Leader-sama. It's been three weeks since he said I'd have a new partner, and his only reaction to my constant prodding is:

"He's not ready yet."

Does that mean he's not pretty enough yet? Not dashing enough? Does he need some hip-replacement surgery? Some plastic surgery or facial surgery? Does that mean he's not sexy enough for good ole' Sasori? I can do all of the above, but I'd rather not, because I mean…well, you see, I don't want to be sticking my hands in some random person's (blond or not) body and chop away. That just really reminds me of Kisame, who likes to slice people up and feed'em to Zetsu or Tobi--

…Okay, you so did not read that.

Anyhow, after repeatedly asking Leader-sama and bombarding him with inane questions, Mister I've-got-a-ton-of-piercings-up-my-ass snapped and told me, "Deidara's just having some difficulty accepting his place. I've got Itachi to discipline him."

Well that explains why the pretty Uchiha is gone. I haven't seen him for the past couple of days.

Buuuut….

WAIT, WAIT! Baaaacktrack--

Did that mean that Deidara and Itachi are--

Oh. My. God.

Images of Deidara and Itachi going at it like bunnies attack my mind, and I had to grapple hold of the table so I wouldn't fall to the ground and sob.

If Hidan could read my Diary (haha, loser can't do it) he'd so totally maim me right now. He'd preach on and on about how sexual things aren't good and that Jashin-sama would probably whip me twenty-thousand times for even uttering the word: _God_. Then, after dominating me all night long, Jashin would throw my bloody and gorgeous body to horny perverts, where they'd feast upon my beautiful body and ravage me senseless.

That thought alone is enough to scare me.

But, not only am I worried of what Itachi could do to Deidara, but the other way around. What if—_what if Deidara wants to screw Itachi? _I mean, he's very pretty and, and…taller than me if I was out of Hiruko and--

I'm going to cry now.

I'm going to cry, then try not to think of what that bastard Uchiha is doing to my Blond Mystery. Thoughts of them sexing each other up are enough to get me emo. I'm considering slashing my wrists, even in spite of the fact that I'm a puppet and puppets don't bleed.

My life sucks.

* * *

I can't believe it.

He came today.

_He!_ You know, my _new _partner! When I first caught sight of him, I nearly creamed my pants and passed out in bliss. If I was to die then, I would so totally be content. I'm serious. He's just that _sex-ay_.

He and Leader-sama were talking, while Itachi was hovering over the two, his Sharingan eyes peering suspiciously at every thing around them.

Uh huhhhh. So not paranoid.

"Sasori-san!" Leader-sama greeted, beaming as much as any leader of a group of evil bad guys could do. And really, that's not much.

I grunted in response, opting to say nothing. I was still in Hiruko, so this blond angel couldn't see my perfectly godly looks. I don't blame him for not seeing me though. If I were Leader-sama, I'd lock me up and keep me to myself forever and ever.

…Okay, I so did not sound like some vainglorious narcissist.

In any case, Deidara squinted at me, and, and…

He said the most terrible thing to me!

"You're ugly."

I have never been more insulted in my life!

I was going to kill him, even if he was blond. I would spear him from head-to-toe in forks and spoons, then feed him sweet poison that would take days to work. Then I'd--

Leader-sama smirked.

"You haven't seen nothing yet."

He pushed me out of the way, Deidara and Itachi following after him.

Diary—

I'd like to tell you that I have never been more insulted, unappreciated and _unloved_ at that moment. It was like I was some sort of exile, kicked out his homeland and forced to fend for himself while gloriously defending his sex-meat of a body—

I'm getting ahead of myself.

I haven't been exiled or anything, but I am eager to prove my Blond Mystery wrong.

* * *

I.

Am.

Jealous.

Of.

A.

_**CHAIR.**_

How absolutely nauseating is that? I mean, I know Deidara is sexy and all things that Hiruko is not, but—_oh my jeebus_. I am _so_ jealous of that chair. His cute butt is sitting on it and I'm trying so hard not to lunge out of my own seat and worship him from head to toe.

I think I eye-raped him a little.

* * *

God. Just--_God_. And don't you start on me now, Diary! I know how Hidan reacts to that name, but I. Can't. HELP IT!

I…

Oh dear. Just take a deep breath, Sasori. A deep and wonderful breath.

Not like I can actually feel it or anything, but yes. Take a deep breath.

Anyway, I'm going to kill Tobi.

Slowly. And. Painfully.

How dare he flirt with Deidara?!

Okay, okay, I know I'm confusing you, so I'll recap from the morning to now:

I was, as usual, drinking my glass of milk and eating a chocolate chip cookie. Everyone around me was eating other kinds of shit, but I really didn't care. I mean, c'mon—Itachi eats Pocky for breakfast and Zetsu eats a human limb. They should be happy that I eat pretty normally for a middle-aged ninja.

So, anyway, like I was saying, I was just eating you know—_just eating_. And Deidara sidles up next to me, yawns, takes a bite out of his toast and engages in a conversation with—

TOBI.

Of all people: TOBI.

The idiotic, wannabe Akatsuki, _Tobi_.

I wanted to kill the masked idiot then. Or maybe, myself, but that's for another time, Diary. But anyway. Right. I wanted to kill him, and I will do that eventually, if I get my way.

Then, suddenly, they were laughing and I wanted nothing more than to strangle him.

There's this vindictive little part of me that wishes Tobi had the worse morning breath ever. But alas, my dreams can never come true: Tobi wouldn't just spontaneously combust or wink out of existence. And neither would Deidara straddle me and kiss me with those pretty lips of his. Or do other things that involve whips, chains, and possibly food items—

--_Ooooookaaay_.

It's getting too tight in the pants area, so I must stop thinking dirty thoughts.

Regardless of my fuming and obvious glaring, the mismatched duo kept talking about stupid things. You know, dumb things that humans tend to talk about: weather, food, their feelings, sensitivity, sadness, etc, etc... I wasn't really paying attention to any of that BS.

The only thing I was paying attention to was Tobi's eyes, and how they would light behind that orange mask of his. Jashin knows how ugly that stupid thing is, and yet, yet—_he attracted Deidara's attention_! How the fuck is that possible?! What about me?! You know, the little Sasori in the corner—yooohoo? The lonely one sitting besides himself, anyone? Five fifty to spend a day with him? Okay, okay, slash that price and make it _F-R-E-E_ with no strings attached?

They just continued laughing and talking.

So that was a no.

Nobody wanted me.

So sigh, Diary. I have taken it upon my shoulders to permanently and forever hate Tobi from this day onwards.

As I was deliberating on whether or not to claw Tobi's eyes out, Leader-sama, like some divine intervention, came in and interrupted their little chat-fest:

"Deidara. Come here. I have to show you the ceremonial room, where the monthly meetings are held."

And that's about it.

I'm totally deflated now. And not to mention sad. But I shall endeavour to find some way into Deidara's pants.

Someway.

* * *

I have found the perfect plan.

I devised it with crayons and markers—wait. Don't laugh at me, Diary. I used them because someone stole all of my gel pens and replaced them with ballpoint pieces of shit.

I'm serious. They have. And they're all in the colour pink too.

Uh…Okay, so as I was saying: I devised a plan.

And oooh, how devious it is! It leaves me tingling and wanting to cackle evilly but—you know what they say. One cannot catch wind if one cannot laugh! So…sigh. I'll just have to settle for laughing evilly in my mind.

Mission: BMTIPG has commenced!

* * *

I will not laugh.

I will not laugh.

I repeat: _I will not lau_--

Oh to hell with it, I'm going to start laughing now.

…

…

…

Okay, I'm pretty much done now. But _man_ did that feel good!

You must be a little curious, Diary, why I laughed. Well, since I'm feeling mighty generous and absolutely deviant, I shall tell you:

I got my revenge.

I finally got it!

I'll settle with trying to tell you the sordid little details, but alas, it is too good for me to _not _tell you, Diary.

So, here it is:

I scared the shit out of Tobi. I seriously did.

And you must be wondering if I'm crazy, because everyone knows that he has a Sharingan and can beat the shit out of anyone in a two-mile radius.

But that's okay. I was better. And smarter. And more gorgeous because I had…_assistance_ from an outside source.

--_Orochimaru_.

I know, I know. I shouldn't strike deals with the devil, but this is basically how it went:

I met the annoying purple bugger outside the Base. We shared a couple of compliments and pleasantries before getting down to business.

"Sasori."

"Orochimaru."

We both shared a look of dawning comprehension, then pranced back to the Base and readied ourselves for a day of utter _deviousness_. I do like that word. I really do.

Anyway, we were like this, you know, trailing behind each other, Orochimaru breathing down my neck and me—well, you know, doing my thing of being the shortest nin in the entire Base. So, we were just walking and then that annoying pest Tobi jumps out of his little hole (room, actually) and starts shouting,

"OROCHIMARU-SEMPAI! SASORI-SEMPAI!"

It was rather convenient that we didn't need to go search for him, so we both shrugged at each other and mouthed, 'To Hell with it.'

With lightning speed, Orochimaru slapped a hand over Tobi's mouth and jutsu'ed them away to some remote getaway. Orochimaru told me it was to some place called Bermuda, but I haven't got the energy to look it up right now.

Needless to say, that I, Akasuna no Sasori, feel utterly contented.

However, the funny thing is, that I sort of feel sorry for Tobi. He looked so terrified of Orochimaru (personally, I would too, but…eheheh, I helped with the kidnapping) and…well…

Even in spite of that, I still feel like a gorgeous god.

And it's not because of the lack of Tobi.

It's not.

* * *

With that moronic idiotic out of the way, I am freely able to start operation BMTIPG.

I'll do it sometime later on today. I feel sort of lazy.

But, on a lighter note, Zetsu's been asking where Tobi had gone to.

I cornered him and told him that Tobi left to go to Bermuda.

Zetsu hadn't bothered to ask me again, though I suspect it's because I had a pair of shears in my hand and was threatening to cut his Venus-fly-trap thingy.

I'm starting to love my life.

* * *

Two blissful weeks after he's gone and finally: _Bad news_.

Tobi's back. And he's not happy. He has purple kiss marks everywhere, and he's glaring at me without his mask.

…Do you _know _how disturbingly handsome he looks without it!?

If he were blond, I'd so totally—

Wait, wait. No. I wouldn't. I won't! Bad, Sasori! Bad!

The mental imagery of me kissing Tobi senseless is actually quite appealing.

* * *

Oh. My. God.

Diary, I think I may have miscalculated a part of my plan for utterly dominating Deidara.

Because…because of--

_Him_!

_He _crooked a finger at me and I don't know why I even bothered to follow him and then, and then--

Diary, I don't know what happened afterwards, but I can tell you that he is one _good _fuck. Really. I hadn't known that it was possible to bend…that way.

I guess Orochimaru taught him pretty well.

* * *

"Hey, Sasori-san, un!" cheers Deidara. He's still oblivious of my godly looks, so he—well, he sort of tolerates me. To a point. To a god-forsaken bloody point.

I hate Hiruko.

Instead of hurling a gargantuan amount of insults at my Blond Mystery, I choose to grunt. Not specifically at him, but more to the wall.

Then he waits.

And waits a little more until my patience snaps.

"What, brat?" I croak, because Hiruko's voice is too bloody ass ugly to sound normal.

"Un, Tobi's looking at you funny," was Deidara's innocuous answer. His pretty blue eyes peer over my shoulder as he watches Tobi leer at me from behind.

I frown, but it's not like my blond partner can see it.

"He always looks at me funny," I state blandly.

"Not until he came back two days ago," Deidara points out, blond eyebrows hitching.

"Well, that's really none of your business, brat," I snap, and go back to glaring a hole into the Family Room. It's sort of fun, this whole annoying the shit out of Deidara. But…_right_. None of what I do affects Deidara, and it frankly pisses me off.

To him, I'm still the same ugly, old piece of fartbag he saw the first time he came here.

We share this silence between us, and it's neither awkward nor comfortable. He shifts a little next to me (we were sitting next to each other, oh glorious day!). "You know, Sasori-san," he begins amicably, "I heard from Tobi, that in order to get to know a person, you have to look underneath the underneath. Pretty wise for a moron, un?"

I glance at him sideways, a little surprised at Tobi's remark. Maybe he wasn't as much of an idiot as I initially thought he was…

"I suppose," I eventually concede, feeling my ire dwindle a bit. Just a bit!

"I figured I should follow his advice," Deidara says, smiling crookedly. "I've been a bastard the whole time I was here, and now I want to make up for it." He holds a pretty little hand out, and I switch my gaze to it, faintly realizing that maybe—maybe being a friend before a lover isn't that bad of an idea.

And before I know it, Hiruko's mechanical hand reaches out to grasp it, shaking the soft palm firmly.

Deidara's blinding smile instantly makes me swoon a little.

And well, you know what, Diary?

I guess I'll just have to start at Point KNOW before going to Point SEX

And even as he's beaming and asking me stupid questions, I can't help but hope that he never finds out about you or my tryst with Tobi.

I'll bet he'd be really angry then.

* * *

**A/N: **If you're wondering what BMTIPG is, it's _Brilliant Minds Think in Parallel Gutters_. :D I know you guys may think that this ending is a little terse, but I rather like it. ; it's way better off than what I originally had in mind, so, yey!

Oh, and initially, I was suppose to update at the end of this month buuuut! College comes in the way of things and I have to go register, blahblahblah. So, yeah. Enjoy this shit piece of work that I had fun writing.


	15. Badass 101

**DISCLAIM IT**: Nope, don't own it.

**A/N: **In defence of all the non-funny gangster fics of Naruto, I've decided to make something…a little more funnier and a lot less graphic.

**WARNINGS**: **Humour, AU/AR, Language, some OOC and MM.**

**SECONDARY A/N**: You know SASGAY killed ITACHI already, right? Right. So. I was pissed. So, there. I made this because I wanted some characters to be badass and pick on SAS-_UKE_. Get it? Yeah. That's right. Even if Sasuke doesn't make any appearance in this chapter, there is a referral or two there that'll link him to it.

**AND CONGRATULATIONS!** You readers get to have a smutty bonus for reading this far. xD Okay, so it's not that smutty, but it's all you're gonna get for a rated T fic.

**BTW: The transition from plotless to kissy will be confusing. I know I was confused, but I wanted to add some action so you readers wouldn't get bored. Sigh. The things I do for you fellow fans.**

* * *

Badass 101

* * *

"I will _not _shave my eyebrows, un!" screeched a blond-haired pretty boy, chucking a nearby Trigonometry Book at his equally pretty friend, Sasori. Hah! Take that, Trigonometric functions! You and your exes and whys shall be defeated!

The redhead merely ducked, cocking a delicate eyebrow at his friend. Whether or not he heard the resounding statement in Deidara's head was all up for the audience to figure out.

Inspecting his dark green fingernails, Sasori drawled, "And why not?"

"Because!" sputtered Deidara, trying in vain to claw for some answers in his brain, "_Because_!"

"Are you going to keep repeating yourself like the idiot I know you are, or are you going to answer my goddamn question?"

"Shut up, un," Deidara responded tiredly, collapsing on his desk. Laying his head onto his arms, Deidara whined, "I'm not up for this type of shit, un. I'm serious, Danna. I don't think I can do this 'delinquent' lifestyle."

"Then you're not cut up for the Akatsuki," Sasori stated calmly, watching as Deidara's face turned an unattractive shade of puce.

"I can't just accept that, un!" Deidara said, jaw tight. "I made it too damn far, Danna! I will not accept defeat!" He punched a fist into the air and posed heroically.

Sasori only rolled his eyes.

"Good choice," he praised, but was inwardly smirking at the things to come.

* * *

"Why do I have to tie my hair up like this?" Deidara questioned, playing with the rest of his hair as Sasori placed one-fifth of it up into a ponytail.

"Because," Sasori said evenly, overlooking the baby blue eyes that peered at him.

"It looks more badass."

He cut a large portion of Deidara's bangs off.

* * *

"Danna, un?"

"What?" Sasori practically barked, backing away as he inspected the liquid eyeliner he applied to the top of Deidara's lids.

Deidara turned to regard his friend, pretty lips pursed tightly. "Do you even know what you're doing?" he asked.

Sasori shrugged and pointed to a Playboy magazine.

"You see that?" he said, adding mascara to Deidara's eyelashes. Not that he needed it, but it was necessary to look the part, Sasori thought, cackling in mad laughter.

Blond brows furrowed in confusion.

"No, un, you're in my eyes."

"Good, because that's how you're going to turn out, if you don't shut the fuck up."

* * *

"Danna un-?"

Sasori sighed and placed the frilly bondage skirt into Deidara's disbelieving hands. "What now, Deidara?"

"Where did you find this skirt?"

"In Itachi's closet."

"And why would Itachi have a skirt and—" taking a quick look at his black nails, Deidara added, "—why would he have nail polish?"

"Because," Sasori replied calmly, surveying Deidara's painted nails with a critical eye.

"Because he makes Sasuke wear it."

Deidara fell to the floor in a nosebleed.

* * *

"Danna, un?"

"For the love of—_WHAT_?" Sasori hissed peeling the banana and handing it to Deidara to hold. It was quite the feat because one, Deidara had plugs up his nose and two, because bananas were icky.

"Why do I need a banana?" he asked, wrinkling his cute nose.

"Because." Sasori ground out, eyebrow ticking. "It's badass."

"Do I even want to know, un?" Deidara vaguely questioned, adjusting his skirt and white blouse.

A smirk slowly spread out on Sasori's face.

"I got the idea from an anime."

"Well shit."

* * *

"Danna?"

Sasori sighed tiredly, putting a hand to his forehead in exasperation.

"_What. _**Deidara**?" he managed to say.

"Is the four-inched vinyl platform boots necessary, un?" Pointing a nicely manicured hand at the atrocity, Deidara begged Sasori with his eyes. "I don't think I can walk in those."

"Too bad." Sasori's jaw twitched. "It's necessary."

Deidara nearly cried out in desperation, but settled for a 'please don't make me wear it, Danna' look, which was evidently ignored by Sasori.

After an awkward silence, Deidara sniffed and said, "Do I even want to know where you got those, Danna?"

Sasori let out a disturbing giggle.

"No, you don't."

Sasori got it from a dead body from one of the boys that Gaara, his nephew, killed.

The murdered was blond and blue-eyed too.

Deidara fainted dead away.

Oops.

Apparently, Sasori had said it aloud.

"Well shit."

* * *

Every boy in the entire school (it was an all-boy's school) hollered, yelled, and cat-called, as Deidara and Sasori walked down the hallways. The males all clamoured around the two, shrieking, screaming and doing whatever they could do to grab their attention. It was a miracle for Deidara and Sasori to even _make _it through the throng of hormonal teens.

"SASORI HAVE MY BABIES!"

A hand tore off Sasori's right sleeve.

"NO, DEIDARA, OH MY GOD! MARRY ME!"

Someone's converse shoe tried to trip Deidara so they could see up his skirt.

"NO, MARRY ME!" screamed a girl, and the males suddenly stopped to stare at her. How the fuck did that bint get into an all-boy's school? They thought, then shrugged and went back to trying to trample/rape/molest the starry duo.

"MAAAARRYYY MEEEE!"

"HAVE MY BABIES!"

"FUCK YOU GAY BASTARDS!" This person was beaten within an inch of his life and left for dead in the hallway.

But, as usual, the pretty redhead pleasantly inclined his head to his would-be manslaves, then literally dragged a very reluctant and girly-fied Deidara behind him.

"Danna!" Deidara hissed lowly, "Why do I need to parade around in this outfit?"

Turning to regard his manslave, Sasori didn't bother to wipe the perverted look on his face.

"Because," he replied serenely, opening the door to class 1-2. "Leader-sama has a fetish for pretty boys dressing in drag."

And with that, he pushed Deidara into the Akatsuki's main room.

* * *

Pein, Zetsu, Tobi, Itachi, Kisame, Hidan, and Kakuzu craned their heads to look at the idiots who stumbled into their little abode.

Hidan was the first to react, slapping a hand down onto his desk and throwing his cloak to the floor.

"Well _shit_ Sasori! You got a chick to join us? You know how we _don't _do chicks."

The rest of the males sniggered, except Pein, who of course, didn't really give a shit. Inside though, the perverted cross dresser was crying out in joy at seeing a fellow kindred spirit.

Pein suddenly nudged Tobi Madara for some advice, but the tall Uchiha merely snorted and shrugged, as if to say, "Hell if I know."

With a sigh, Pein eventually said, "You may sit, Sasori."

There was a cough from the other males and Pein sighed again.

"And the girly-boy too."

"Thank you, Leader-sama," Sasori said graciously, kicking Deidara in the back of his knees when the blond refused to reply.

"Oww Sasori-danna—_uhhh_, yeah. Thank you, Leader-sama," Deidara muttered, and the redhead shot him a look of utter venom. Deidara then heaved a sigh and corrected himself, "I mean: thank you, oh gracious Leader-sama."

Everyone beamed.

"Good, good! Now settle down everyone!" Pein clapped his hands, but it wasn't as if he actually needed to. Everyone was already settled and staring meekly at the walls.

Or, well, at Deidara, but that was the addressing matter anyway.

"I hereby state that we have a new member, a girly-boy by the name of--wait, what is your bitch's name?" Pein suddenly said, scratching his head.

There were murmurs of dissent from other members, and Itachi's lips twitched while maintaining his usual 'don't fuck with me attitude or you'll find a knife stuck up your ass' kind of manner. Tobi Madara only poked his cousin's crimson eyeball with a giggle, and Zetsu was there to calmly explain to Itachi why it wasn't right to kill the moron.

Kisame was obviously snoring, Kakuzu was counting his money and Hidan was grinning lasciviously at the uncomfortable blond.

"Ahem, Sasori? Your bitch's name please," the pierced man repeated a little impatiently.

Sasori smirked when Deidara reacted by violently gagging and glaring daggers at Pein. The blond opened his mouth and was about to give the fucker a piece of his mind, but Sasori beat him to the punch line—

"My bitch's name is Dei-chan."

Deidara gasped in outrage.

"No it isn't!" he denied vehemently, "My name's Deidara! Not _Dei-chan_!"

"But it's a nice nickname, innit blondie?" leered Hidan, somehow managing to eye-rape Deidara at the same time.

Kakuzu's eyebrow ticked.

Calmly putting down his eyepiece and pure onyx gem, the treasurer of Akatsuki fluidly stood up, then stomped to Hidan.

"You fucking idiot--" He grabbed his (boy)friend by the ear and hauled the struggling occultist outside the room to give him a sound lashing.

"Kakuzu, I can explain—OWWW FUCKING DAMNIT. Don't you fucking touch me with that fucking whiiiiii-_iiiiiippppp_! SHIT! GET THAT FUCKING THING AWAY FROM ME!"

"That's not what you said last night."

"Goddamnit! I'm serious Kakuzu don't you fucking dare--ooooohhh. Jashin, that feels so _good_--"

There were thumps and groans and—wait,was that a _moan_? And all the rest of the members treated the occurrence as if it were…well, normal.

But to Deidara, that was clearly _not _normal. In fact, the whole kinky sex outside the corridor was downright disturbing.

He raised a shaky hand up.

"Yes?" Pein queried, in his righteously buggery voice.

"M-may I be excused, un?" Deidara stuttered.

"Hm," Pein looked thoughtful for a moment, glanced to his right at Tobi, then nodded. "Yes, yes, fine. You may go."

As he was about to reach the last few steps to freedom, Pein's cold voice stopped him:

"—And Deidara."

"Yes, un?"

Deidara wanted out. He wanted out.

Outoutoutoutoutoutoutout_out_! He'd even lick Sasori-danna's toes to do it. Maybe even Itachi, if he was desperate.

"You're in."

With that, the door suddenly slammed in his face, a disgruntled but very satisfied Sasori getting kicked out a few seconds later.

* * *

"Well that went fairly well," Sasori stated, walking besides the stumbling Deidara. He was, after all, still in his platform boots.

"It was fucking creepy, un," Deidara grumbled, then growled out, squatted on the ground and ripped the boots off from his lilywhite feet. "Fuck this shit! To hell with looking like a fucking hooker, un!"

"Whatever," Sasori's lips twitched. "I thought it looked good."

"Well I thought it was totally useless, un," the blond pointed out, shuffling along in his black and white striped socks. It was lucky they lived in such a safe and healthy environment (i.e. fucking rich place), so that meant there were no glass, beer bottles or any of that crap usually littered the ground.

"It sort of was," Sasori agreed. "But it was the sort that's worth the effort. The other Akatsuki members won't have any doubts about you now."

"And why is that?" Deidara asked dubiously.

Sasori just smirked.

"_Because_, my naïve little friend, now the boys know they can count on you for cross dressing missions. So far, only Leader-sama, Itachi and I take them."

"Well good for you guys, un," Deidara groused. "I just don't understand why I had to make a fool of myself in front of the entire fucking school!"

"You didn't need to," Sasori stated, as Deidara stopped dead in his tracks to stare at his friend's back in disbelief.

"So I didn't _need_ to do all of this shit, un?"

"Yeah, basically," yawned Sasori. He was totally blasé about the whole ordeal of lying to his friend and humiliating him in front of high school society.

It was a normal thing to prank Deidara. The last time Sasori had pranked him, the redhead was thoroughly sure that no one knew it was him that put the black dye in Deidara's conditioner.

Hee hee.

Deidara's breathing suddenly turned erratic.

"B-but the hair and t-the make-up and t-the _skirt_, un! What about those?" he said desperately.

"Didn't think you'd actually follow through," Sasori said, once again yawning. "S'not my fault that you never said no."

"Y-you _bastard_, un!"

And thus, Deidara pounced.

The kiss was short and aggressive, their teeth mashing against each other's mouths. Deidara found that he liked it that way—their lips, slick with each other's saliva, causing a tendril of warmth to coil in his groin. Deidara nearly groaned when his Danna's moist mouth opened and tentative hands gripped his back.

Oh_god_oh_god_oh_god_.

Just what was he thinking?

Deidara knew that this whole thing was so wrong (in more ways than one) and it might've ended up with a split lip or black eye but—

_Oh god_—that tongue. That _skilful _and _deliciously _moving tongue.

Deidara couldn't stop it now, even if he tried. Even if he wanted to get revenge for the whole fucking initiation.

Seemingly snapping out of his daze, Sasori had instantly taken dominance of the kiss, his sheer force making Deidara's knees wobble. That sinful tongue was lapping at the roof of his mouth and the little "uhhh" that came out of his lips wasn't his fault! It wasn't! And the rest of the sounds that came unbidden from his throat were a matter of conjecture—

Deidara's head tilted back and he moaned low in his throat, a wave of heat enveloping his body. This was wrong. So _very, very _wrong. This was his best friend, you know, the person you shared secrets with, carried their books for, got them out of detention in spite of the consequences—

A strong hand tangled in his hair and jerked his head back even more. That sinful tongue suddenly stopped lapping at the roof of his mouth, and Deidara whined, wanting his Danna's tongue to fuck him. He could feel Sasori smirk against his lips, but Deidara didn't care—he only cared when that tongue thrust back in and fucked his throat, sucking in all of his whines and pleas for more.

If this was heaven, Deidara wanted to die. Now.

Stomach clenching, Deidara pushed himself closer—closer to that delightful heat—closer to that high—

The lack of oxygen was making his head spin, but Deidara pressed forward, not caring if Sasori's breathing was harsh against his nose, and they were in the middle of a fucking street, in fucking broad daylight. He found that he didn't care when _his _arms were holding him and _his_ mouth was against his—

"_Fuck_!"

Teetering dangerously backwards, Deidara abruptly fell flat on his ass.

Glowering, Sasori's brown eyes spat liquid fire, and Deidara flinched, waiting for the imminent verbal spew to hit him. When it didn't, Deidara chanced a peek, only to see Sasori's uniform-clad back. Hastily standing up, he yelled, "H-hey, Danna! Wait up, un! What about that kiss and—"

He was promptly flipped off.

So much for falling in love, having babies and living with each other to the ends of their youthful days.

Deidara hurried after his Danna, mind thinking of all the apologies he could tell the redhead...in a private and much more…_sound proof_ room.

Smirking, Deidara caught up to Sasori and slung an overly friendly arm around his Danna's shoulder.

* * *

And yes, that is the resulting end. I refuse to make this one-shot any longer and more complex because everyone just wants the smut. e-e And don't deny it, haha.

**Btw, that was the first kissing scene I wrote, was it bad? **

Oh, and if anyone could give me pointers, that'd be helpful. I was giggling throughout the whole time, because my mom and dad were in the same room. xD

I know I've written raunchier scenes, but do you _ever _see anyone actually putting some effort into what they do? Yeah, that's right, I'm pretty much a novice when it comes to smut. Sigh. Hoped you liked it, in spite of it's (in)accuracy?

**And if you're confused why Sasori walked away, it's because he wanted to kiss Deidara, not the other way around. X-x I got angry when that happened (haha, I like my dominance) so yeah. I walked away too. Not out of shock or anything, but out of…eurm, you know...annoyance, that I didn't make the first move.**

**_REVIEW_**? O-O


	16. Rhythm and Colour

**DISCLAIM IT**: The plot isn't even mine. It's Chromde's. And, and. Uh, yeah. I don't own. They're all MK's. What a bitch.

A/N: Since Chromde got to be my fiftieth reviewer (joy!), she got to tell me what she wanted for the next chapter…I swear, she thinks of the weirdest plots. O-o;

**WARNINGS**: Unnecessary suffering (on Sasori and Itachi's part), LEGNTH, vague hints of humour, TALL Deidara, OOC (some characters, idk), AU/AR, mature themes, LANGUAGE and of course MM. Some smut ahead, mateys!

NOTE: Sasori's accent is equivalent to a British accent. Because Singapore is weird like that. xD

* * *

Rhythm and Colour

* * *

_You won't ever get into his pants if you keep on screwing up_, Inner Deidara chided. _You've been staring at his arse for ten minutes now, and he's bound to notice. He always does_.

_Shut up_, Deidara growled, pressing the button to begin the lifts.

There were squeals of laughter from the children, and Deidara wanted nothing more than to blow them all up. They'd all go out in a beautiful bang.

_You sure you don't want me to teach you how to make homemade explosives_? Inner Deidara asked. _I was you in your past life and you had some affinity for them. Don't you remember the palmouths I was talking to you about? They'd really come in handy in situations like these--_

_Didn't I tell you to shut up_? Deidara spat, angrily pressing the speed button on the Carousel. Instead of being a nice, slow ride, the Carousel became a vicious vortex, with frightened shrieks and screams coming from the children. It was music to Deidara's ears.

_Someone's a little touchy_, Inner Deidara snickered. _You should watch it though, your nephew looks like he's going to hurl._

"Well good for him, un," Deidara muttered, evilly pressing the speed button once more. Now the Carousel looked like a whirlpool of sparkles and colours. The blond cackled to himself, listening to the kids scream for their mommies and daddies.

_You, my friend, are a sadistic prick,_ said the annoying voice that Deidara learned to live with. It had been there since he was born, and not once did the stupid voice learn to shut up. The only reprieve he got from his 'twin' was when he was fast asleep. Thank God that the annoying presence went away then, otherwise Deidara would've been in a straitjacket, counting the number of tiles on a wall.

Deidara scoffed, "Whatever, un."

He let the torture continue on for about three minutes (because he wanted to watch Sasori's cute little butt through the tent flaps) before turning the lifts off and opening the gates.

"Here you go, children!" Deidara cracked a fake smile while his blue eyes glittered in the summer sun. "Hope you had fun, un! I know I did."

"Bastard," grumbled the blond boy under his breath, his small, orange-clad body staggering past Deidara. Naruto was green to the tips of his ears, and Deidara suppressed an evil laugh at seeing his miserable little nephew.

The rest of the children apparently agreed with the blond and stumbled away, probably to find some empty garbage can to vomit all their candied apples and cotton candy. Maybe even their disgusting sodas too.

Deidara absolutely loved this part of his job.

_Like I said before: __**sadistic prick**__, _Inner Deidara said.

Ignoring that remark, Deidara waited five minutes, making absolutely sure that no kids would come and bug him for the next hour or so. To his immense relief, everyone steered clear of the ride, eyeing the Carousel like it was the devil itself.

He was glad that children had a sense of self-preservation.

_Wonder why Sasori never talks to me? _Deidara mused to his counterpart, moving to sit on one of the Carousel horses. He wasn't as heavy as his five-foot nine inches suggested, and for that, Deidara was glad. At least he wasn't fat or reed thin. He was just right.

_Maybe because whenever you go near him, something bad happens_? Inner Deidara seemingly shrugged. _The last time you went near him, you made him trip over his own clown shoes. And trust me, they were harder to put on then trip over._

_But that wasn't my fault!_ Deidara cried out, arms crossing. _I was just saying 'Hi' and waving—_

_You were wearing your favourite long sleeves_, Inner Deidara pointed out.

"So?" he asked aloud, scratching his head. "What does that got to do with anything?"

_And you were stretching while greeting him_.

_And your point is_? Deidara's eyebrow cocked.

_It was showing a sliver of your stomach and happy trail_, Inner Deidara sighed. _I can't believe my future self is an idiot._

"I—fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-!" shouted Deidara, covering his face in complete mortification. Now how was he supposed to face the cute redhead and ask him for a date? It was unlikely that Sasori would agree to go on one with him—he _was _just a no-name freshman in college, with Sasori being a close friend of the President. And not to mention that the redhead was of course, a _junior_. Fresh-shit and Juniors never mixed. Period.

_Please tell me that I didn't just sexually harass Sasori_, the blond mourned, dabbing at the corners of his eyes. Tears were gathering there and he wanted to sob all night long, maybe slit his wrists and cry himself to sleep. Or drown himself in the shower room while cursing his bad luck and life.

Inner Deidara snorted at those emo-esque thoughts.

_Don't worry. You didn't do anything I wouldn't have done, _Inner Deidara said, supplying Deidara with an image of him stretching and showing his muscled torso off. _You only brought your chances of being with him down to five years instead of two._

Deidara groaned loudly.

"Just wonder-fucking-ful, un."

* * *

"You know, Sasori, Deidara isn't that bad of a person," Itachi said conversationally. The Uchiha was the one who ran important college events. These events included: the planting of trees every spring, the Musical Ensemble Orchestra, the Harlequin Guild plays and etc., etc.

The annual Summer Festival was just another one of them.

In any case, Itachi was the President of the Student Council and International Student Association. The rich and powerful fucker had a lot of old money backing his name, and half a dozen corporations to boot. He wasn't _just _the Big Kahuna on campus—he was _the President_, the dude that everyone looked up to. Like his father before him, and his grandfather before his father, and his great grandfather before his grandfather—oh you get the picture, right? Itachi was just _that rich_ and _that powerful_. He had everything handed to him on a fucking gold platter. His pretty fingers were too good for a motherfucking _silver_ platter.

Tipping his head back, the black-haired man mused aloud, "And he took the Carousel job that I gave him. No one in their right mind takes that job."

"Then why did you give it to him?" groused the redhead, his whiteface glaring malevolently at the Uchiha. He was applying his ridiculous clown makeup, silently contemplating on whether to murder the annoying prick or not. No one could possibly hear their President's death throes in this soundproof room, right-?

"Don't even think about it," drawled the smart President coolly, adjusting his expensive glasses with a smirk. "They'll definitely hear me screaming."

Damn.

"Fuckass," grumbled Sasori, finishing his red cheeks and lips. He refused to put on anything except red, black and white makeup. Even his costume was modified to look exceptionally prettier than the others'. He _demanded_ it to look like a Halloween costume, rather than a stupid clown one. In fact, he looked like a cross between a J-Rocker and a pretty punk, minus the annoying amount of bling and chains.

"You look like a Geisha," Itachi commented, chuckling a bit. He circled around Sasori, humming his approval on the contrasting colours. "All you have to finish is your liquid eyeliner and—viola! A Geisha straight out of the films!"

" Yeah, a Geisha that's lackin' breasts and is quite obviously _male_," Sasori replied dryly, his accent surfacing. "And let's not forget that he's also wearing retarded clothes that make him look like he's from one of those emo bands in the West."

Itachi's red eyes were glowing in amusement. "I heard that referring to yourself in third person means that you have an ego the size of the earth," he said, gesturing to Sasori's over-inflated nose.

"An' I heard that if you piss me off, there's not going to be a body left to salvage," Sasori responded, his sickly sweet tone belying his evil intentions.

Itachi just smiled, waving his pale hand in dismissal.

"Tch, death threats, death threats. All I know is that your look is what everyone in the West would clamour for," Itachi said, pointedly looking at Sasori's vertical labret and ear piercings. "They're all into this metal shit, and frankly, everyone out there loves it too. They always watch your shows every afternoon."

"Only because they're sadistic," Sasori said, hopping into his stylishly torn black pants and white shirt. "They enjoy seeing me trip over a fuckin' banana, or honk my fuckin' flower at some little shit." His attractive British drawl was much more prominent whenever he was pissed.

Itachi smirked.

"I know Deidara likes to see you bent over, with your—"

A bag of face paint was pelted at Itachi's personage, exploding all along his expensively tailored uniform and glasses.

Itachi wasn't fazed in the least.

With a sniff, Sasori went back to readying himself for another day of Hell. It took a moment for him to add the last touches to his outfit, but it was well worth the effort. He sprinkled glitter all over his red hair and body, giving him a nice, ethereal glow.

"Hm. You look like you fell from the Heavens and beat a hobo up for his clothes," Itachi clucked, inspecting his outfit with a critical eye.

Leave it to Itachi to be brutally honest about things and whatnot.

Rubbing his now blue and yellow glasses onto a cleaner patch of his uniform, the Uchiha then said, "But I suppose it'll have to do. Today is the last day, so no one would care if you look a little less like a clown and more like a rock rebel."

Sasori glared.

"Any idea who's doin' the fireworks this year?" Sasori grit out, delicately placing his feet inside his stupid clown shoes. At least they were black, he thought, disgusted at the size and length of them. They were four sizes too big for his small seven. Hybrid genetics sucked (and that didn't include the Uchiha or Hyuuga family either).

"No idea," Itachi replied, his thin lips pursing. "The Matrons haven't told me yet, but I think it might be some inexperienced lout."

A slow, genuine smile spread across Sasori's face.

"Good," he said. "Because I wan' the whole fuckin' place to explode."

* * *

_There he is_, Inner Deidara pointed out. _And boy does he look fine_.

Stopping to stare at the enigmatic redhead a few feet away, Deidara's jaw dropped in a comical manner. Instead of wearing his usual white suit, Sasori was wearing a _rock_ outfit, complete with his piercings and tattoos. It seemed as if he didn't give a shit about looking like a clown, since it was the last and final day.

Deidara didn't have the heart to fault him.

Acting out of reflex, the blond was already running towards his crush, waving and yelling, "Hey, Sasori-san!"

To his disappointment, Sasori's body stiffened, and he was instantly walking away, as fast as humanly possible.

_And why would he do that?_ Inner Deidara said idly. _It's not like you're contagious or anything—wait, nevermind. Your stupidity is._

_Asshole,_ Deidara retorted, before taking a deep breath and following after the redhead.

"Hey! Wait up, Sasori-san!" he shouted out, pulling his shoulders up and running even faster.

The sad thing was, that Sasori did the opposite and even began to jog a little.

Finally, after a few minutes of their chase, Deidara caught up, panting and wheezing loudly. "Whew, Sasori-san. It's a good thing that I'm on the track team, or else I'd have thought that you were trying to avoid me, un!"

Sasori frowned.

"Tha' was the point," the redhead muttered, those soft brown eyes of his trained on Deidara in what seemed like annoyance.

Inner Deidara was cackling in the back of his head as Deidara tried to laugh it off.

_You're hopeless_, Inner Deidara commented.

"Well? Wha' do yea want?" Sasori said testily, maroon eyebrows cocking as Deidara fidgeted in place. His British accent was more endearing and pronounced, the testier he became. It was so—so _cute!_

_Less squealing and more answering_, advised his counterpart sagely. _He's looking a bit grumpy._

Stuttering, Deidara's cheeks flushed cutely, and he played with his forefingers. "Eurm—do you want to…You know, we could go there to—well, it's not too far—"

"No," Sasori spat. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

_I wouldn't either_, Inner Deidara added.

Silver-blue eyes watered.

"But why not?" he begged.

"Because."

Pause.

"If I go with you, something might cause me bodily harm. Don't you remember the last time you dragged me to the apple booth? I broke out in hives," Sasori said.

"But!" Deidara protested, "I didn't _know _you were allergic to peanuts! I wouldn't have eaten them and come to get you from your performance—"

Regardless of how desperate Deidara sounded, the redhead ploughed on: "And don't you remember the other time, the one when you 'accidentally' pushed me into the dunking pool after squealing at how cute my cousin, Gaara was?"

"But he's a _natural _redhead_, _un! Of course he was cute!"

_Like Sasori,_ Inner Deidara butted in.

_No one wants your two-cents, _Deidara spat, before thoughtlessly saying, "It's not like you didn't enjoy being in the same pool as Orochimaru-sensei—"

Sasori gagged, turning green.

"He's a known _paedophile, _Deidara!"

"And how was _I _supposed to know that, un?"

"When he was _groping _my arse, obviously," Sasori said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "An' don't you forget the other day, when you made me trip on my own shoes in front of the entire crowd—"

A firm, but very gentle hand covered his mouth; anxious blue eyes giving him a kicked puppy look.

From then on, Sasori knew he was doomed. But he'd let Hell freeze over before he gave in! They'd have to drag him kicking and screaming!

"Please let me make it up to you?" Deidara pleaded. "It's the last day of the Summer Festivities, and I want to show you that I'm not just some idiot running the Carousel, un!"

Sasori felt his ire dwindling slightly, and he opened his mouth to say "_Hell no_", when Deidara suddenly began to drag him off, in the direction of the Kite Flying area.

_Yes_, Sasori decided grimly, gripping the end of the kites string in his small hands.

He was doomed.

* * *

There were some things that Itachi was not meant to see. Some, not even he could say what happened. But most of the time, he enjoyed seeing the suffering some people went through. Mainly people like Sasori.

To put it bluntly, Sasori was…an interesting individual.

Like most teens his age, Itachi deeply appreciated the eye-candy that Sasori was. With his ruffled crimson hair, soft brown eyes, and pale body—who_ didn't_ like what they saw? The red complimented his eyes, which complimented his body, which complimented his thinness. All in all, one helluva combination.

But to be honest, the first time he saw the red-haired boy—well, Itachi wanted to do _not-so_ appropriate things to him. With him. Whichever came first.

In fact, they were things that shouldn't be discussed in public. Things that involved chains, whips, nipple clamps, cock rings—err, wait, this really wasn't what he wanted to say in the beginning.

Sighing, Itachi brought a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was currently listening to his brother whine on his blood-red mobile. Asides from Sasuke's husky-thirteen year old voice and multiple squealing of girls, there was also background noise on the other end. It sounded as if someone was _rubbing_ themselves on his baby brother!

The mental images that came with that particular thought made him want to strangle each and every person he came across.

It was quite obvious that Itachi was _not _a happy president. He had an overbearing brother-complex, and he wanted to protect his brother 'til the end of his days! To his death, even!

The rubbing sound got worse.

Suddenly, the pen in Itachi's hand snapped in half.

Oh no! he thought, wailing inwardly. There were possible molesters with his otouto! They were probably planning on stealing his virginity!

"Don't worry, Sasuke, big brother is here to save you!" the President crowed into his phone. "I won't let them take your chastity away!"

He heard a: "What, Aniki? Why the English endearment? And what the hell do you mean by _save_ me and my _chastity_?"

Already up and out of the clown tent, the Uchiha heir sped down the rolling green plain, a stark contrast in the bleak countryside. He was an eyesore with the ugly face paint on his clothes and glasses, but that didn't deter him! He felt like he was some legendary hero, from some legendary ballad, from some legendary Norse myth! He _felt _like a total hero, and that's what counted.

"Aniki? _Aniki_?" came Sasuke's worried voice. Itachi juggled his mobile onto his other shoulder, running at a brisk but even pace. "Aniki? What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

"Saving you, duh," Itachi replied in a 'don't even think of chastising your older and much more wiser brother' tone.

But, what he saw in the next few moments caused his red eyes to pop out his head.

Back-pedalling, Itachi slowly made it back to the Carousel, then looked furtively left and right. Sure that no one could see him, he crept closer, listening to the sound of Deidara and Sasori talking:

"You're an idiot, Deidara."

More British mumbling and an avid glare.

Deidara just sighed, lovesick.

"Are you just going to keep sighing at me all day?" the redhead asked.

His answer was in the form of a sigh, with hearts fluttering in the air around the enamoured blond.

"Idiot," Sasori frowned.

That was then, that Itachi decided to leave the two alone. _Very alone_.

So creeping back to the entrance, the naughty Uchiha stole his way across the greenery, past the clown tent, and behind his little brother, who had _no _idea what was going to transpire in the next few seconds:

_"A-NIIIIIIKIIIII_!!"

And was promptly glomped/molested/loved.

Itachi-style.

* * *

"Tell me why I'm letting you lie on my lap," Sasori said, blankly gazing at Deidara's blond head.

"Because you love me, un?" Deidara tried.

"No, not that, the other thing."

"Un, Because you _want_ me?" There was a blinding grin and Sasori rolled his eyes.

"No, not _that_ thing—the _other _thing."

Deidara deflated.

"Oh, un. _That _thing," he said plaintively. "Well, if you don't love me or want me, it's because you want to kill me, is that right, un?"

Sasori nodded. "Yes, yes, that's it," the redhead assented.

"Well, that sort of makes sense," Deidara admitted lightly. "You hate me so much that you let me do anything I want to you, un."

"Yes, yes, that's exactly it," Sasori kept nodding.

"Which means you won't mind if you stay here until the fireworks begin, un!"

Sasori was still nodding.

"Yes, that's exactly—wait!" Sasori suddenly caught the double entendre and glared, pulling his fist onto Deidara's head. "I'm not falling for that cheap trick!"

"Oww!" Deidara yelped, rubbing his forehead in misery. "You can't blame me for trying, Danna," he pouted.

"_Danna_?" Sasori gave him a puzzled look.

Deidara paled and tried to _not_ think of the ways Sasori could maim/kill/torture him.

"It means 'good friend' in Korean!" he instantly lied, then slapped a hand over his big mouth.

Uh oh.

"Hm? You don't say. I swear it meant 'husband' in Japanese or somethin'." Sasori still looked flummoxed. "Well, if you say so." The redhead shrugged.

"And you _believe_ that?!" Deidara blurted out, then slapped himself again.

Sasori's eyebrow cocked. "Am I not supposed to? I don't know Korean after all. Just a lil' bit of this and that."

_Good call, _Inner Deidara spoke up.

_I thought you died or something?_ Deidara asked. _You were quiet for so long_.

_N_ope, the voice said triumphantly. _I just met Sasori's past self. Still as ninja and as puppety as ever._

_Do I even want to know? _The blond wondered.

_Nah,_ answered Inner Deidara. _You don't_.

_Okay_, he agreed, focusing back on Sasori's lovely face.

"Weeeell—" Deidara floundered for another excuse. "Y-yeah! You should believe me, Danna, ahahaha—" He began to laugh nervously.

Sasori rolled his eyes.

"Whatever."

* * *

Kisame was just trying to do his job. Scare people, kill them with looks, feed his aquarium, clean the manor—and his annoying but favourite part—_protect the President_. It was a job that needed all his focus and concentration, a twenty-four hour surveillance and most of all, a look out for the President's kid brother.

All in all, a very taxing job.

What Kisame couldn't understand, was _why _he was currently dealing with two brothers that wanted nothing more than to smear each other's entrails to the nearest bathroom wall.

Lord, he thought, palming his eyes and groaning in agony. Why couldn't he protect _saner_ individuals?

"Why did you tear Naruto off of me, Aniki?!" yelled the younger of the dysfunctional pair, obsidian eyes glaring spitefully at the President.

Itachi snorted and elegantly flipped his luxurious hair.

"_Because_," he stated silkily, "he was trying to take your virtue."

"_**Just what the hell do you mean by that**_!" Sasuke exploded, steam literally pouring out of his ears.

Somehow making the move as sexy as possible, Itachi drawled: "Your virginity, naïve little otouto."

Sasuke somehow conjured a switchblade out.

Ohhhhh shit.

This was Kisame's cue to make sure that neither of the idiotic brothers killed each other or anyone else around them. He wasn't paid seven digits for nothing!

"Look—" he interrupted, pushing himself in-between the warring siblings, "Naruto is okay, Sasuke! Just look at him and maybe you won't get so angry at Itachi."

A dark eyebrow quirked, but the younger Uchiha did what was told, a loud gasp coming out of his parted lips a second later.

"What?" Kisame asked, then turned to take a good look at Naruto. Before he could stop the words, they came out in a loud, hushed whisper:

"Oh shit."

And indeed it was.

For Naruto was a sorry sight, with his normally blue eyes, red and puffy. His lips were pale and trembling, and his wheat-blond hair was in disarray, looking like a haphazard porcupine. Even his bright clothes were dimmed and depressed looking.

Kisame actually feared what would come next.

A storm cloud appeared over Sasuke's head, and whilst tackling Itachi to the ground, he bellowed:

"_ANIIIIKIIIIIIII_!"

* * *

"Why are you in a body cast?" Sasori asked, as Deidara nodded next to him. Itachi sat next to the two, with Kisame behind him.

"Well," the President began lightly, his voice muffled through plaster; "It's because Sasuke beat the shit out of me…again."

"Then why don't you call the authorities, un?" Deidara said, feeling a little sympathy for the dark-haired retard. Even if the blond didn't know who the President was, he'd still be nice and kind to him. Maybe he'd even get to be friends with the proud Uchiha.

_If you're lucky_, Inner Deidara said, and Deidara had no doubts to that.

"Good question," spoke up Kisame. Everyone looked at him to elucidate, and the tall, Jamaican man sighed. "Look, it was Itachi's fault. He caught Sasuke in a very compromising position and wanted to protect him."

"Over-bearing brother complex, I assume?" Sasori said, earning a nod from Itachi and a laugh from Kisame and Deidara.

"Yeah, something like that," Kisame admitted. "Sometimes, Itachi just doesn't know when to stop being a jackass to Sasuke."

"But it's for his own good!" the crippled Uchiha protested, "It's not like I did _anything _to Naruto."

"If you mean scare the living shit out of him, then yeah," Kisame mumbled, avoiding the glower that Itachi gave him.

"_What?!"_

Deidara whipped his head to stare at Itachi.

"Did you do something to my little nephew?" the blond accused.

"No," Itachi shrugged, though how he did that was a mystery in itself. "I only told him that Sasuke didn't need to have sex until he was sixteen and fully able to take care of himself."

"Oh." Deidara calmed down. "At least that kept him quiet, un? Whenever he comes over my place, he's always bouncing around the walls."

_And the ceiling_, Inner Deidara quipped.

"Something like that," the President and Bodyguard replied, simultaneously remembering how Naruto reacted. The blond kid was damn violent when Itachi annoyed him.

"You know," Kisame said, "that kid wailed loudly for ten minutes, with Sasuke spazzing right next to him. They even held each other and cried for a while."

Sasori sighed, shaking his head,

"Puppy love," he said.

Everyone sighed with him.

"Puppy love," they all agreed.

Checking his watch, Deidara suddenly jumped up from his white Carousel horse and said, "The fireworks! They're about to begin—"

Three pairs of hands instantly pushed him back down.

"In about twenty minutes," Sasori said. "And I still haven't figured out who's doing the fireworks."

"You haven't?" Itachi asked, puzzled. "I thought I told you."

"No you didn't," Sasori said. "So who is it?"

"Some idiot named Tobi," Kisame said, scratching his head at the memory of a squealing masked man. "He sure does like orange."

Deidara suddenly cringed, and the others stared at him in suspicion.

"You know this—_Tobi_?" Kisame asked, vaguely surprised. "He seemed really incompetent."

"Un, well, you wouldn't know the half of it," Deidara muttered. "He's a stalker of mine or something. Likes to pester me at school and offer to take me out of town. I always turn him down."

"Good," Sasori and Itachi said, the friends both sharing a small smile and chuckle.

"Well I know him because he's my older cousin," Itachi said, twirling a finger in the air; "He's a prodigy you know. But he likes to be an idiot from time to time."

Like you, they thought, but refrained from saying so.

* * *

Mouths sealed against each other, breaths coming out in harsh, and heavy huffs. But despite the romantic atmosphere, Deidara was seen, grappling the back of Sasori's stylishly torn pants, pulling the smaller body closer to his. Their noses brushed against each other as he angled his head down, his teeth lightly nipping at Sasori's bottom lip. Feeling the redhead stiffen, then slowly relax into the kiss, almost caused Deidara to burst out into gleeful giggles.

How the hell they got from watching fireworks, to making out in front of the President and his Bodyguard, was a mystery.

_Eh, works for me_, Inner Deidara said, nodding approvingly. _This is some spank-bank material.  
_

_Doesn't matter_, he thought, and languidly kissed those reddened lips, never diving in, never asking for entrance—_just tasting_. And Sasori let him. Even parted his lips a bit, greedily sucking in air when he was allowed to. Even his vertical labret was a cool contrast to the warmth that spiraled down Deidara's gut.

_It's funny_, Deidara thought letting out a hum of appreciation when Sasori's arms wound around his neck. _How this is too good to be true._

_You're telling me_, Inner Deidara replied. _ When the hell did this happen anyway? Last I checked, Sasori was prying you from his personage, not letting you shove your tongue down his throat.  
_

Deidara stifled his laugh.

_Well, _the blond began, smiling against Sasori's mouth. _It sort of started off like this…_

Twenty or so minutes ago, all four of them were arguing about Hidan and Kakuzu being together.

"But he's like, a _masochist, _un!" he insisted. "Masochist plus Sadist equals good relationship!"

"But Kakuzu's _scarry_," Kisame pointed out, while Deidara glared at his head.

"Your point, un?" Deidara said, arms crossing. "Some guys like scars."

"Yeah, I'll show you a couple," Kisame grumbled out.

There was a brief silence, and then a: "…Well?" from the tall Jamaican.

"I don't really care," Sasori stated, and Kisame snorted, eyeing the President in what the blond deemed to be a 'please tell me that you don't agree with him' look.

"Scars, flaws, three legged cows, whatever," Itachi shrugged. "So long as there's a mouth, a hole, and a warm, willing body, then I'm all up for it."

"_Pervert_," everyone murmured under their breaths.

Itachi pretended not to hear.

"So, do you think Tobi'll make the whole Festival into the next Big Bang?" Kisame asked, stretching on his small, stuffy little Carousel horse. Poor thing. It looked like it was half-ready to collapse under the tall, six foot, three inched giant.

"Probably, probably not," Deidara said, wrinkling his nose. "He may act like an idiot, but he's a goddamn genius." There was an undertone of 'duh' in his tone.

"Makes sense to me," Sasori said in a mock-whisper, not so subtlety pointing to Itachi, who was, at this moment, playing thumb war with himself.

Deidara smothered his laugh by coughing.

And that was where they were now, twenty minutes afterwards, kissing, petting, doing things that put other couples to shame.

Shame? Pfft. More like satisfaction.

_You got it_, Inner Deidara said, purring like a cat. His presence in the back of Deidara's mind shifted in pleasure. _You should do this more often, kid. It'd be even better if you had palmouths too._

_No kidding_, Deidara thought, mouth still moving languidly over Sasori's own. _I'd have two extra tongues to taste him._

Moments later, his counterpart amusedly asked, "_Don't want to stop, do you?"_

_Never_, Deidara answered, briefly stopping the kiss to rub noses with Sasori and laugh a bit. The redhead's only reaction was to snort through his nose and press his body even closer. To Deidara's surprise, Sasori peppered soft, feather-like kisses all over his face, and it made something ache inside Deidara. Why did it feel like he was loved? Felt whole and complete when Sasori did this?

Why?

_Probably because this happened in your past-life too_, Inner Deidara soothed. _Just _feel_ and not _think _for once. Take it all in stride, let your feelings ride you._

_Yeah, I'll be sure to let _something_ ride me._

Groaning low, Deidara pried open Sasori's mouth, wanting _something _more than these chaste kisses. Something deeper, something _primal_. He wanted to find that _heart _that Sasori hid somewhere, and even if he felt _hotcoldtiredscared_ he was still kissing him, tongue twisting around Sasori's to explore that warm and moist cavern. It beckoned to him, called him, lulled him with it's sweetness. There were _thoughtsmemoriesimages_ coming into his mind, of Sasori with smooth, mechanical limbs, rough hands, blood red hair and grey-brown eyes.

And through the haze of euphoric remembrance, Deidara heard a distant cheer and a few catcalls:

"Go, Deidara, go! I knew you had it in you!" whooped Itachi, with Kisame snortling right next to him. He was vaguely aware of the booming of colourful fireworks high overhead, and the sharp tang of sulphur in the air. He barely registered the sounds and smells as Sasori's wonderful wooden scent invaded his nostrils.

But—

_Ohhhh fuck_.

Deidara's mind (and not to mention libido) came to a screeching halt as Sasori's lips unglued themselves from his.

Calmly seating himself away from Deidara, Sasori gave everyone a frighteningly serene smile, his pretty face twitching to resemble a marionette at it's worst.

Deidara, Itachi and Kisame knew they wouldn't escape intact.

* * *

"I'm going to kill you!"

A pointed barbeque stick was thrown with deadly accuracy at Deidara, and the blond was hard-pressed to dodge it. He somehow managed the feat, rolling onto the ground and yelping in the process.

"Wait, Danna, un! I can explain-!" the frantic blond said, hands up in the air defensively. "I was just—"

"Molesting me? Kissin' me under the stars while Kisame and Itachi stared at us like we were some horny idiots?" the small teen sneered. "Don't lie to me! You had _less than _virtuous thoughts back there!"

Another pointed weapon was pelted at him, and Deidara ducked, crying a little inside. He wanted to object, say that Sasori wanted it too, but he _knew_ that it'd get him nowhere. Or if it did, it'd most likely be a trip to the nearest hospital.

_Well, you know, he has a point there_, Inner Deidara said. _You _were _thinking of how to get into his pants without him noticing it. Back when I was alive, Sasori didn't even let me give him a handjob until seven months into our relationship. I had to settle for self masturbation. Do you even _know_ how hard it is to get _off_ when __there's a warm and willing person in the bed next to you?! _There was a long, and suffering pause, as Deidara ducked again, then crawled under the Carousel gates.

Inner Deidara sniffed when Deidara refused to answer, but anyway said:

_That's right. It was damn difficult. I was even tempted to molest him in his sleep. If it weren't for the pointy things he carried in bed, I would've had my hands down his pants in a heartbeat!_

_Stuff it, you, _Deidara spat, then tried to plaster a 'please forgive me for being so horny' look on his face. _While _you_ keep on prattling about our sordid love life, _**I **_have to try and not get ourselves killed__. And no offense, _Deidara shimmied under another fence, _the only thing I want to do right now is survive._

_Well good luck there_, Inner Deidara said, tone huffy. _See how much good it'll do you. I should know; I remember when I first put my hand down his pants, and trust me, **violent** is an understatement.__  
_

"Homicidal, then, right?"

Grimacing at the images that his oh-so-helpful counterpart provided, Deidara nearly got hit by a table (how the hell did Sasori even manage to pick it up!?) as he ran past the Clown Tent.

The table landed in a heap near a group of denizens, who screeched loudly and scampered away.

_Youch_, Deidara thought. That was going to hurt the incoming revenue.

After twenty minutes of running, with no sign of Sasori behind him, Deidara deemed it safe to take a break (though really, he should've known better.)

Taking a long look around, Deidara suddenly espied Itachi and Kisame's twitching bodies besides the Pokemon Booth.

The two louts were already down on the ground, their own blood specking and drying on their expensive clothes. If Deidara wasn't too busy fearing for his life, he would've been above their bodies, laughing his ass off. To think, the President and his Bodyguard, beaten to a bloody pulp by a short teen?!

Fucking priceless.

And even as a hard ball (possibly an apple itself) knocked the side of his head, Deidara still couldn't help but smile.

Instead of getting a date, he got something infinitely better: a kiss from a cute and influential junior.

Not bad for a college freshman, huh?

* * *

**A/N: **There ya go, Chromde. Hope it meets your expectations. Sorry if it's a little lengthy, but that was the best I could do, considering the circumstances, LOL.


	17. Possession

**DISCLAIM IT**: I'll never, ever, ever, ever OWN. MK owns. Bastard.

**A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I had to do crap to get into college. Err, and this MIGHT be the last update for awhile, you know? 'Cos I have to get ready for school and yadeyadayada. whatever. it's in two weeks and I'm scared. -Flails- **

**WARNINGS: **Semi-angst, humour, AU/AR, language, and **MM. **Haters beware of the garbage heap full of flames, lol. Minor TobiDei, but ultimately SasoDei.

**SECOND A/N: I know this is in Tobi's POV, but there's a reason for this. It's still SasoDei, so yeah. Uhm. Enjoy, luverpies. :D**

* * *

Possession

* * *

Tobi had a good life. Nice relatives, roof above his head, food to eat and a place to call home. He had cousins that didn't laugh at him for his mismatched eyes and a charitable aunt that took him in when his parents had kicked the bucket.

Life was good.

He liked the chores he was assigned to do, even if his cousins had never been given any. After all, he had to pay them back for their generosity somehow, though he never really needed to. He just liked how he had to cook for them and prepare their meals: it made him feel needed, and not at all like the charity case he really was.

But what he didn't like was the men that sauntered into his home, laying greasy fingers over the expensive vases he had just polished. He didn't like how those men would eye his cousins as if they were meat on display, though they certainly acted like it (but he kept that to himself).

And not only that, but Tobi _honestly_ didn't like how sometimes, in the middle of the night, Itachi, his eldest cousin, would stumble back home, bleeding all over the white marble floor.

It took him _ages_ to clean the blood off!

Sometimes though, Tobi was glad for Itachi's company at night. The intimidating teen with red eyes and enough body piercings to scare grandmothers was always genial to him, even if all he did was stutter in return.

And tonight, was doubtlessly one of those nights.

"Did you have a good time with your friends?" Tobi managed to ask, and the silent teen shrugged, as if to say:

"_It could've been better_."

"Ahh..I see…" Tobi tittered around Itachi for a moment, trying to help clean the teen up.

Multiple lacerations lined Itachi's toned arms and cuts zigzagged around his back. Tobi guessed they'd leave thin scars when they healed.

Taking note of the rest of his cousin's injuries, angry red cigarette burns taunted Tobi's vision as he bent down and rubbed ointment into the blisters. The clumsy boy massaged povidone-iodine onto Itachi's firm chest, tongue sticking out and dark brows furrowed as he did so.

The cuts weren't too deep to be disfiguring or unattractive, meaning that they would possibly heal in three weeks. There wasn't as much damage as he originally suspected, so Tobi nodded to himself and covered Itachi with gauze, then proceeded to pat a Snoopy Band-Aid on the scratch across his cousin's upper lip.

Tonight was certainly one of Itachi's better nights, Tobi thought, not moving his gaze away from his cousin's.

Before he could even ask, Itachi's hot breath whooshed through his lips, making Tobi crane his head to stare at the impassive teen.

"I don't take shit from anyone," Itachi said, as if trying to convince himself of that fact.

Tobi could only give his cousin an arched brow. "Then why do you keep going back?" he questioned, carefully putting the medical kit under the kitchen sink. He then stood up, one red eye and hazel inspecting his work.

Spotting one loose bandage, he pulled it taut, then stood back, finally satisfied with everything.

"Well?" he addressed Itachi expectedly, after a minute of silence.

A frown flit across Itachi's naturally blank features; his normally bright red eyes a dimmed mahogany; "They're almost finished," Itachi explained, as he stretched his arms above his head, muscles rippling in the dim light. "I only have tomorrow to worry about."

"Tomorrow-?"

Tobi was rather curious about Itachi's underground life, and who could fault him? Itachi was so full of mystery and intrigue that his prodigy status shadowed in comparison.

The frown on the teen's face deepened. "It's—_well_—it's complicated," Itachi admitted, frustration seeping into his tone. "I can't tell you anything, so don't try to pry."

With that admission said, Tobi didn't question him any further.

When the next day began, and Sasuke was readying himself for school, Tobi found Itachi smiling at him from the corner of the dining room. It was admittedly an eerie sight, but not unwelcome. No one _ever_ smiled at _him_. Thus, mildly surprised but very chipper, Tobi beamed back at his cousin, moving to do his chores.

Though today seemed to start off with an odd beat, Tobi treated the change with a skip to his step.

Usually, Itachi would only ever ignore him, step all over his feet (or whatever part of his body was on the floor), then proceed to laugh about his miserable existence to those weird friends of his. Sasuke would simply chirp a 'Morning Itoko!' on days when he wasn't late, however most of the time he shot Tobi a grin before speeding off into the Uchiha District.

_Today seems different_, Tobi thought, mindlessly sweeping the floor.

He suddenly put a hand over his eyes and squinted up at the sunlight filtering through the filmy curtains.

_I like the sound of that, _his mind confessed.

A smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he continued his task.

* * *

The doorbell chimed.

Repeatedly.

Tobi took it upon himself to descend from the third floor and to the large iron gates. He happily noted that the Aureas he planted were growing their beautiful, but-not-quite-ready forms, their bodies idly draped across the front lawn.

He couldn't wait to see them in full bloom.

Humming a quiet tune, Tobi skipped towards the entrance, all thoughts on planting his favourite shrub: _the Hypericum Calycinum_. Should he do the planting today?—or tomorrow? Tobi was rather indecisive when matters like these arose.

A rude and very deep voice broke through his pleasant thoughts:

"Hey, yeah! Are you going to open this stupid piece of shit or not? I've been waiting for nearly an hour, yeah!"

This caused Tobi to blink, then tilt his head sideways. He was glad that he wore his mask today, or else his Aunt would've scolded him again.

"_No one can see who you are, Tobi, or you'll get hurt,_" was the first thing she told him, as she handed him the ugly orange mask. _"It's for your own good, Tobi. Someday, you'll understand why_."

He took her word without complaint.

"Earth to freak, yeah! Are you going to open up or what?" called the voice insistently, and Tobi laughed a little sheepishly.

"Sorry," he apologized, and keyed in the code. Seconds later, the gate rumbled, revealing a haggard-looking blonde haired girl. She swiftly jogged in, narrowly avoiding the audible _snapsnapsnap_ of the gate closing behind her.

The cute teen wiped the sweat off her forehead with a dramatic flair, saying "_Phew_, now that was close, yeah!"

_Hm,_ Tobi thought, eyebrows furrowing. _Since when did girls have flat chests and deep voices_? Tobi was totally sure that girls did not have any of the former—unless he was really missing something.

"Are you a girl?" Tobi asked, immediately regretting it as pretty fingers twisted around his throat. His breath rattled in his throat as the girl choked him, deep blue eyes glaring holes into his mask:

"I. AM. A. MAN. YEAH!" she—_he _(Tobi corrected himself)—punctuated every word with a firm shake. "Did you think I was a girl, huh?" the blond hissed, "Girls don't have flat chests! And they definitely don't have voices as deep as mine!"

"Unless—unless they're deformed," he managed through a delightful mouthful of air, throat convulsing as the air refused to go down the right way. Abruptly finding his back on the ground, Tobi felt shapely legs squeezing his thighs in some heavenly form of restriction. If he told the blond to keep at it, would the stranger take it the wrong way?

Apparently so.

"Die, you idiot pervert, yeah!" shrilled the blond, shaking Tobi for all he was worth.

Maybe he shouldn't have said anything.

The grip on his throat tightened painfully, and Tobi was sure that he'd bruise by the next day.

If he lived.

Just when he was starting to feel light-headed, Tobi saw the graceful silhouette of his cousin stalking towards them, scowling.

_Oh thank God_, he thought, black spots swimming in his vision as the stranger was forcefully pried off him. This allowed Tobi to greedily guzzle in air, chest heaving with the effort of maintaining some semblance of normality.

_Ohhhhh maaaan_, Tobi internally groaned. He sat up, only to see the world as a kaleidoscope of spinning colours. The dizzy spell lasted no more than a few seconds, but in that time, Tobi was sprawled on the ground, ducks waltzing in his peripheral view.

This was it! Tobi wheezed pathetically. He would never take oxygen for granted. Ever. Again.

And that was a promise!

"Deidara, don't kill my cousin," was what Tobi heard Itachi tell the blond, disdain easily recognizable in his elegant voice. "He's the maid."

Rolling upwards to stare at the two figures, Tobi watched as Itachi easily lifted the small blond's collar, forcing him up so they were eye to eye.

"Don't do that again, you hear me?" Itachi growled lowly.

Deidara snorted and crossed his arms. Tobi could only label his expression as extremely sulky.

"You know I wouldn't have done it yeah, if he didn't ask if I was a girl," spat the blond.

"But all the same," Itachi said, lips curling, "Don't overdo it. He's an idiot, so you have to forgive him."

This was then, that Tobi chose to speak up on his behalf,

"Er. If you haven't noticed, I'm still here-?"

This remark earned him a roundhouse kick to the face, courtesy of an irritated Deidara. The cute blond was still rather miffed about being called a girl, even if he technically _did _look like one. A very pretty but _manlyish_ girl.

The last words that drifted into his ears, as peaceful oblivion punched him (or it might've been Deidara, who knew?) was a snarky reply and an exasperated sigh:

"You didn't say I couldn't kick him," Deidara was saying smugly, his voice lilting into an enchanting accent.

There was a deep sigh and a murmur of: "What is Sasori going to do with you?"

And that was how he met Deidara.

* * *

The first time that Tobi was introduced to Sasori—_he was floored_.

Instead of being some pleasant-seeming grey-haired man that Tobi had envisioned, Sasori had turned out to be an _extremely_ wealthy toymaker. He wasn't grey, nor was he any older than thirty, so that meant that Sasori was _young and very suave_. He had constantly windswept red hair that was borderline auburn, with a few chestnut streaks highlighting the pretty mass. He had honey brown eyes that had specks of green and grey in them, and Tobi was very, _very _jealous of them.

Although Sasori was short in comparison to Itachi and Tobi, he was slightly taller than Deidara and had a cool personality that dominated all others. Even Itachi had to sometimes pause in his sentences and let Sasori speak.

He just demanded that kind of respect.

Which again, made Tobi envious (and a tad bit resentful).

To put it bluntly, Tobi found himself fearing Sasori. Not only because the redhead was daunting, but mostly because he was everything Tobi wasn't:

_Richlaidbackcharmingcoolsuave_.

The definition of everything _not Tobi_.

When Deidara had brought an obviously reluctantly Sasori inside the main compound, Tobi had thought he was going to blow a fuse. Maybe even a major artery.

Why? Because Sasori was glaring.

When? Deidara pulled his Armani-clad body into a painfully traditional-looking community.

Where? To where Tobi was currently washing clothes. Without his mask on.

What? No, seriously, _**WHAT--?!**_

Panicky and unprepared for their visit, Tobi did the first thing he could think of: _wet his hair_. Even if the water was somewhat soapy and smelled of _Snuggle_ detergent, Tobi _had_ to do it. He just couldn't bear to think of Deidara thinking he was some sort of freak.

Which he was.

The water matted his hair down, causing his erratically spiky locks to fall into his face, thus _thankfully_ covering it. For the time being.

Good thing he had skipped his monthly trim.

"Hey, Tobi, yeah! Meet Sasori-danna!" The cheery blond shouted, shoving Sasori to the front of him and grinning widely. He gestured to the both of them, saying, "Sasori-danna, Tobi. Tobi, Sasori-danna!"

Sasori looked vaguely annoyed.

But he still held out a contemptuous hand and said, "Pleasure to meet you. Deidara's told me so much about you." Sarcasm laced every word and it stung Tobi.

_Can I punch your handsome face in and feed you to the carnivores_?

Tobi forced a smile, "Nice to meet you too, Sasori-san." He stood up from his little stool and bypassed the curious duo, walking over to the tables and reaching for his mask.

He put it on.

"Why do you wear a mask, yeah?" Deidara asked, once again dragging Sasori to Tobi.

Tobi shrugged, "Because I have to."

Sasori's brow quirked but he refrained from saying anything, while Deidara whinged and wondered aloud.

* * *

"Come inside, take off your shoes and sit at the table," he said, shoulders tense as he showed them the way inside the Uchiha household.

Tobi didn't know why he was acting—_so not him_. Like. Mean. Tobi was never _mean_.

But that was weird, because he could swear he was being mean to Sasori.

He couldn't help the mutinous scowl that plastered his face as he stalked to the kitchens. It was his duty as a host to grab some snacks for his uninvited (and very not welcomed) guests. Mechanically snatching some steamed rice cakes, ice-cream mochi, and tea, Tobi placed them on a serving dish.

"Here," he said, conjuring a pleasant countenance and voice. He plopped the platter onto the low table, all the while glaring heatedly at Sasori.

"Thanks, yeah!" Deidara beamed and dug in.

Sasori didn't even bother to say anything and just chose to sip at the tea.

Tobi's fists clenched.

And that was how he first met Sasori.

* * *

As the months passed by, Tobi learned to conceal his tangible hatred for the quiet redheaded man. All he had to do was keep his lips pressed tightly behind his mask and fists clenched inside his sleeves.

When he was feeling particularly incensed by the man's presence, he'd excuse himself and go to a secluded glade of the Uchiha residence, a small, straw doll in his hand. It was a voodoo doll for Sasori, and he always felt better after stabbing it a few times.

Violent?

You have noooo idea.

He stabbed it in its crotch area one last time, before letting it be pinned to the tree and wiping the sweat away from his eyes.

Today, he chose to not wear his mask.

It wasn't for anything like vanity—Jashin forbid he had any of that—it was just really humid on this day.

Tobi stalked back to the Uchiha compound, his feet crunching loudly onto dead leaves and twigs. He made sure to mask his presence from his oncoming Aunt and Uncle, then sidle his way inside the crack of the backdoor.

"Tobi."

Startled, Tobi yelped and whirled around, heart beating rapidly in his chest.

It was Sasori.

His deep grey eyes bore into Tobi's mismatched ones, and a maroon eyebrow quirked.

"I see. That's why you choose to cover your face," the redhead mused aloud, a slender hand moving up to caress Tobi's cheek in a bad parody of a loving touch.

Tobi's eyes narrowed.

"Why are you here, Sasori-san?" he asked coldly. "Shouldn't you be back at the parlour room, with Deidara?"

Sasori shrugged an elegant shoulder.

"He's currently playing Monopoly with Sasuke. He told me to go somewhere because I was distracting him."

_In more ways than one_, Tobi's mind spat, and he outwardly snorted.

"And you thought I'd appreciate it if you bothered me instead?" he sneered.

"Look," Sasori said firmly, steel in his rough voice, "I know you don't like me, but for the sake of Deidara, _please_ don't act that way in front of him."

Tobi plastered an innocuous look, "What way?"

Sighing, the older man shook his head, "That way. He already suspects something, but you know how he is—he's easily distracted and forgets easily."

"And your point?" Tobi refused to change his expression. "It's not like it's my fault—"

"It _is_," Sasori hissed, "I didn't ask for Deidara to fall in love with me, or me with him. I don't know what your problem with that is, but _please_ don't do anything to me or him. I'm begging you."

Mismatched eyes wide, Tobi felt them water slightly. "I—_I…_I'm sorry," he whispered, head downcast and dark hair obscuring his view. "I hadn't—_I'm sorry_."

He hadn't realized that Deidara reciprocated Sasori's feelings and the other way around.

Right now, at this moment, all he wanted to do was curl up in his futon and wish the world away.

It took some time for Sasori to leave, but when he did, his footsteps _were clangingclangingclanging_ in Tobi's ears.

Numbly, and robotic-like, Tobi Madara stepped out of the house and back to where he had pinned that doll.

And that's the day that he comprehended that he'd never have a chance in Hell.

* * *

It was a nice, clear day, a year or two later that Tobi's heart finally mended. It was a long process, and it hadn't helped that Deidara still visited every other day, lugging an obviously adverse Sasori behind him.

He and Sasori remained civil, but Tobi knew his place. He knew better than to bare his hostility out with fangs.

_Hedidn'tstandachance_.

Not against someone who was _so Sasori_.

Sweeping in the front yard cleared Tobi's mind, and for some reason, like that day so many months ago, he hadn't placed his mask on. He let his spiky hair grow out, the long locks cascading down his shoulders in a manner akin to a porcupine. He was only twenty-one, and his body had at long last matured.

His gold-tinted skin glowed in the sun while his mismatched eyes shined with life. Out in the open, with no mask concealing anyone's view; Tobi lulled most of the passer-bys with his odd sense of serenity and quiet beauty.

As people passed by and cast him appreciative glances, Tobi never noticed.

Because the one person that he wanted to pay attention to him wasn't—

_Wasn't his_.

* * *

**A/N: Haha. You see why I said you'd understand why it was in Tobi's POV? Talk about unrequited love. I'm so evil and mean to Tobi, mwhahaha. xD**


End file.
